Clean Through
by AubreyWitch
Summary: She’s not responding, and suddenly he has the irrepressible urge to grab her, crush his lips against hers and taste her. Anything to know she’s real—alive. Contains LEMONS NaruSaku
1. Chapter 1

Naruto remembers his first attempted kill. A boy pretty enough to make him blush who had begged for a mercy he called death. He had hesitated and argued but that wasn't what made it _almost_. Only after he had relented, given in to the idea of the slaying, did the boy change his mind.

"Sorry, Naruto-kun, there's still something I have to do."

And then he disappeared faster than Naruto's eyes could follow, to throw his life away at another's more experienced hand.

But this isn't almost.

The blood on his neck is _hot_ where he wipes the slick palm of his hand and gasp-chokes for air. That was close—much too close. Sakura's eyes are wide and unseeing. She's bent on hands and knees, twitching like some kind of sickly dog, and he can see the lines around her throat that he's sure will bruise by the morning. Her hair is a darker pink in places, tainted with what he hopes to god isn't her own blood.

"Sakura-chan. Sakura-chan."

His heart is throbbing like a wounded thing in his chest; the beat swells in his ears, quickening, deafening.

"Sakura-chan."

She's not responding, and suddenly he has the irrepressible urge to grab her, crush his lips against hers and taste her. Anything to know she's real—_alive_. But it wasn't her that he thought about when he could no longer breathe. The guilt is stifling and for a moment he's back struggling against the ninja's deadly grasp, feeling the woodiness of the vines through his shirt as they constrict around his chest. Dead things intended to kill.

They crunch under his boots when he shuffles forward and drops to his knees beside her, a numbness just starting to set into his fingertips. "Sakura-chan, it's okay. He's dead."

_I put a hole through his chest. I mean, my hand went clean through._

He doesn't have to look at the body to know that the back has blown clear off, exploded outward in a shower of red-stained flesh and bone under the force of his Rasengan. He couldn't control it in his desperation, couldn't stop the kill in his fear, and he feels weak for feeling even a little sick about it. He reaches one hand out to touch Sakura's shoulder but drops it midway, unwilling to dirty her with his bloodshed. He clenches his fist to keep from shaking. The numbness tingles up his arm and barely touches his elbow. He wonders if Sasuke feels this same soullessness all over when the tingling spreads to his chest.

"We're okay."

Will he be able to stop it? The pain has traveled up his neck and finally reached his lips like a thousand pin pricks, and he has to stop himself from touching them just to know they are still there. Instead he presses them into Sakura's damp hair just above her ear and lets himself tremble with her. It's only this close that he can hear her whisper, "The bone is shattered in my right thigh."

He's surprised at her words, her seriousness, and pulls back. Her eyes are dull when she finally looks up to him. She studies him for a moment, reaching up to wipe the tears from his cheeks that he didn't know he was leaking. "It'll take me some time to heal, our first priority should be getting out of here."

He nods dumbly and doesn't have to say _I'll carry you_. She's already wrapped her arms around his neck in anticipation. He cradles her carefully in his arms, and when he runs she bites the black fabric over his shoulder to keep from screaming. She clings to him, pressing herself into his chest, one palm trembling against the back of his neck, and he wants to promise her that the pain will be over soon, but he's too scared about the permanence of his own hurt and the dull ache in his chest that echoes of hollowness.

When he can't run anymore, he finally picks a spot to hide, and while panting from lack of breath, goes about preparing traps. She mends the bone in her leg, never having said a word. The vegetation is dark and lush above them, so that even when he lights a small fire, he feels trapped in the void. He stares at his wrists and the purple bruises that now circle them, ones he's certain spiral up his arms.

"You're dead aren't you? You're dead and no one told me."

The suddenness of her words startle him, and he looks at her with sad eyes.

She's crying now for the first time, sobbing and covering her face, and he realizes finally the source of her own fear. It's true, after all, that this isn't _her_ first kill. No, she had experienced that months ago and handled it better than he was now. Again, he feels weak but doesn't know what to tell her to prove that he's alive. The blood is crusted on his hand and flakes as he slips his fingers through hers and pulls her hand to press over the hardness of his chest. He pushes her palm flat over his pounding heart and waits until she feels the heat of it under her skin. She looks to him with green eyes shimmering with doubt, and as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear with his free hand says, "I didn't die."

Her tears have stopped as abruptly as they came, and she's pushing his jacket down over his shoulders, ripping his shirt off over his head. A small sound catches in the back of his throat in disbelieve, but he ducks to assist her, feeling the shirt slide off his outstretched arms and fall to the ground. He's cold in the night air, shadows from the fire dancing across the front of him, but he doesn't have time to respond before she's wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed her face against his bare chest, and she _listens_, really listens, for the sound of his heartbeat. She stays like that for a few minutes, ear pressed against his skin; he smooths her hair gently, silently, relaxing some against her, and she whispers as explanation, "I can't lose another one."

It's somehow disappointing, but he understands. He plasters on his over-sized smile even though she can't see it, wearing it out of habit as he fake laughs, "Saaakura-chan, you were worried about me."

His eyes crinkle.

She pulls away with a roll of her eyes, finally looking less pale and more like herself and huffs, "Of course I was, dumbass. Though I swear I don't know why."

She falls quiet and for a second; he can see in her eyes how truly important he is to her. His smile fades to a more genuine one, and without thinking he pulls her into his arms. He's crushing her against his chest in need, but she doesn't try to pull away. Instead he feels the tips of her fingers feather across the small of his back hesitantly before she again wraps her arms around him.

He buries his face against her neck and breathes in the scent of her with shuddering gasps. It feels weird to him, knowing there are people who would actually give a damn if he died. It's not something he had the luxury of until just a few years ago. Even now there are people who would rejoice, celebrate the death of the Nine-Tails along with him, but he knows Sakura's concern is sincere. He's thankful that she cares for him even if he can never have her love. If it had to be that way, he's glad it's because another man stole her heart first and not because of his cursed fate. He likes to pretend he doesn't believe in all that—fate or destiny—that's he's going to be the Hokage regardless, but he's not blind to the treatment he receives even still, and he didn't fail to overhear the protests from Sakura's parents upon learning who exactly was on their daughter's team.

"_He shouldn't even be a ninja. They're putting our daughter in danger along with the entire village."_

That was from her mother to Ino's just outside the florist shop during Team Seven's first week together. He had never gone back to buy Sakura flowers again. It was probably better that way because Sakura had tossed them without a thought into the river, not realizing he had spent his dinner money on them. He didn't blame her though. Her heart was already set on someone else, and he had been enough of a bother in his enthusiasm over her. He had matured over the years though, learned which pestering was welcome and which would only result in a face punch and was happy enough being one of her close friends.

He stills suddenly when he feels her warm tongue brush the skin of his neck.

"Sa-Sakura-chan?"

His eyes are wide, uncomprehending, but he can't make himself pull away as her arms tighten around him and she leaves a trail of kisses down his throat to his collarbone.

He forces another laugh as he tries to pull back, but it comes out softer than he intends, and his voice is shakier than he wants when he jokes, "I know you're worried about me, but I'm fine, really. I've lived through worse."

"Naruto," she breathes, sliding one arm higher up his back to trap him in place. "Shut up."

He swallows hard as she rises up, now just inches from his lips, and feels a deep stirring in his chest, but it isn't entirely painful. He wants it, god he wants it, but should he let her use him—could he take it in the morning when things went back to normal and he was left alone?

She leans in, rubbing her closed lips lightly back and forth over his, the softest of caresses, eliciting a defeated whine from his throat before she presses her mouth to his and parts her lips ever so slightly. His eyes close and he lets himself kiss her like he has always wanted to, like he has dreamed about when he was alone in his room, trying desperately to relieve the tension between his thighs. His hand finds her jaw, thumb stroking over her cheek, needing to touch her, feel her, as his other hand slips into her hair and fists desperately. _Mine._

It was going to kill him when they had to separate. He pulls back from her lips, panting, and she actually tries to follow, but he stops her. "Sa-ah-I can't. I can't."

He thinks he might cry again, and he doesn't want to look weak in front of her, so he doesn't open his eyes as he drops his hands away. He takes a few moments to catch his breath, let his chest stop heaving and is just about recovered when he feels her arms slide around his neck and her bare breasts press against the front of him.

He jerks—chokes, and opens his eyes to look at her, but the side of his face is pressed against her hair and all he can see is into the darkness of the forest behind her or down the pale, softness of her backside.

"Please," she whispers into his ear, "do this for me. I need to feel _something_."

He swallows hard and even knowing that it will break him, quietly relents. "Okay, Sakura-chan. Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: This chapter contains a lemon. I have edited the wording somewhat to tone it down for ffnet. If you want to read the unedited version you can find it at ****www. mediaminer. org/ fanfic/ view (underscore) ****ch.php/ 137289/ 474251 or naruto. adultfanfiction. net/ story. php? no (equals) 600091863 & chapter (equals) 2****. If lemons or Naru/Saku offends you, please turn back now.  
**

* * *

He pushes her back slowly to look at her—at the front of her, deciding that if he is really going to go through with this, he wants to be able to remember it for later when he is alone. He takes her breasts in his hands gently, exploring the feel of them between his fingers. She closes her eyes, sways a bit under his touch, but somehow he wants her to look at him. He doesn't want to wonder if she's pretending he's Sasuke. But he can't bring himself to say anything so he kisses her neck to keep from having to. She moans softly and slides her palm up his bare arm; her thumb rubs lightly over his shoulder. He loves the taste of her skin even mingled with the bitterness of sweat and blood. He can do this, because he'll do anything for her and as much as he hates to admit it, this might be his only chance. As long as she doesn't speak, as long as she doesn't say Sasuke's name, he knows he can do this. 

_I've always loved you_, he thinks as he lowers her gently to the ground and licks his way down her tummy, fingers tucked into the waistband of her skirt. He's afraid that if he speaks, he'll ruin it for her, so he's silent as he peels the last of her clothing away and stares appreciatively at her naked form. But her eyes are open now, watching his every action, and he blushes slightly despite himself.

He descends on her then, eager to know her taste and touch, a rough palm on each thigh as he spreads her legs slowly to permit him access to her. He slides two fingers up and across her there, but she's dry so he leans in to give her a lick. She squirms beneath him, and he smiles, holding her down as he thrusts his tongue inside. It isn't the first time he's been with a woman, but it's _their_ first time, and he wants it to be memorable for her. That is, he doesn't want to be forgotten.

She's panting and making all sorts of cute noises that torment him as he continues, one hand on the inside of her thigh, the other gripping her hip. He's straining, nearly throbbing in need, but he ignores it. She's tangy but also slightly sweet, and he's never tasted anything like her.

She's good and wet now so he moves one hand to slip his fingers inside of her, then out of her, then inside again as he runs circles around her with the tip of his tongue. She's getting closer, unable to hold still, and he increases the intensity of his fingers, spreading them each time he pulls out before plunging them in together once again. He looks up the length of her body, searing the image into his mind, her breasts free and with the barest sheen of sweat, her throat bared as her head tilted back. She reaches down to fist one hand through his dirty hair and then she screams when she comes. He's surprised at the intensity of her reaction, rides her body through it, slowing his fingers only when she shudders to a still and then collapses on her, face pressed against the smooth line of her stomach as he wraps his arms around her waist, wanting to hold her before she pulls away forever.

He's grinning, proud of himself, but he's still surprised when she whispers, "Thank you."

It reminds him that he was merely doing her a favor, cheapens it a little for him, and he frowns when he replies, "You don't—"

But he can't finish because her fingers have started playing through his hair and just then find the smooth skin of his ear. She runs the tips of her fingers down the edge of his earlobe but doesn't stop there. He sighs and closes his eyes when she traces over the shortest of his facial markings to continue lightly over his bottom lip. She's feeling generous in the afterglow, and he's not about to correct her.

"Take your pants off."

His eyes shoot open and he nearly sits up when he sputters, "Wh-what?"

Her fingers have never stopped rubbing through his hair even if her other hand has left his face, and he finds it strangely soothing. It makes him want to close his eyes and just give in so when she says it again, he finds himself nodding.

He rises up slowly, breathing deeply and suddenly terrified at the idea that he's been excited this whole time. Was it allowed? Even though it's a ridiculous thought, he can't help but wonder if she'll be angry with him. His hands still over the button to his pants, and he can't bring himself to continue. He stares at the ground, not really seeing, and lets his hands drop to his sides.

She crawls toward him, steadies her hands on his hips as she pulls herself to her knees and looks to him questioningly. She can see the sadness in his face, but she doesn't understand.

"Hey," she whispers into the crook of his neck, but he doesn't answer.

She doesn't know what to say so she shows him what she wants instead. She bumps against the front of him playfully and scrapes her fingernails across a nipple. He jerks under her touch, a small whine catching in his throat, and she continues pinching and twisting the nipple between her fingertips as she bends to suck at his other one. She pulls on it teasingly as she runs circles with her tongue around the other one before pulling away to focus her attention lower. He watches her, half-wanting, half-disbelieving as she slides her fingers across the lip of his waistband, just barely brushing his skin.

"I can't," he chokes for the second time that night, feeling like he might just kill himself for interfering, for trying to stop it. "I can't unless you say you want me."

It's a pathetic attempt to protect himself, and really he muses, much too late.

She leans into him once more, wrapping an arm around his neck and with her other hand, brushes the length of him with her palm. His eyes are wide as she whispers against his ear, "I want you inside of me."

It's not what he meant, but it'll do. He doesn't try to stop her when she slips his pants down over his hips and greedily takes in the sight of him as he spills forth into the night air, hot and ready. He flushes at the look she gives him, the smile that plays at the corner of her lips, and he reaches out to pull her to his mouth.

The kiss is hot and not at all full of love, but he doesn't care because she's biting and sucking at his lips, and he likes the feel of her tongue in his mouth. It doesn't surprise him when she pushes him forcefully to the ground, and he doesn't try to resist when she crawls on top. He loves the sight of her there, leaning over him on hands and knees, breasts so close he could take them in his mouth, and he does as she rubs herself over him, wetting his hardness and teasing him at the same time.

He's glad when she doesn't make him beg because that might be a little too cruel. She's tight and hot and he cries out as she moves back and forth and in little circles because he _needs_ her to move on and off.

"Sakura-chan." He tried not to say it, tried not to say anything, but he can't stay silent this time as he digs his fingers into the dirt and tosses his head from side to side.

She surprises him by kissing his lips and starting gently, with slow, long pumps.

She pulls away when she finds her rhythm, rides him for her own pleasure, but he doesn't care anymore, can't think anymore and just tries to hold out until she comes.

"Sakura-chan, I'm sorry," he chokes when he thinks he can't hold it anymore, feeling like he's failed her, but she surprises him by calling out his name right before her peak and it sends him over the edge.

It takes him a minute to remember how to breathe as he takes shallow gasps of air; in the meantime she's wilted to his chest, and he rolls her to the side to cradle her against him as he slips out and she falls asleep. He holds her and tries not to think about what it might or might not have meant that it was _his_ name she cried.


	3. Chapter 3

She wakes a few hours later and though he hasn't slept at all, they silently dress before setting off in the direction of Konoha. The bone has healed completely, he's sure of it, but her leg must still be sore because she's slower than usual and running with a slight limp. He can't stand to watch her push herself so, even if he'd do the same so he drops his backpack and tells her to get on. She resists like he knew she would, and he wants to believe it's because she's an independent woman and a ninja, not because she's avoiding his touch. He shoots her a look that says he won't give in, and she relents.

He likes the feel of her bare thighs in his hands, likes the weight of her against his back even if it adds to his exhaustion, and she rests her head on his shoulder as he runs. They accomplished the mission's information-gathering objectives but he can't help but feel like they've failed by returning in the condition they're in.

When they reach the outskirts of the city, he stops on a branch to scan the streets out of habit and then heads in the direction of Sakura's working class, middle-income house-hold. His single-bedroom apartment in the government housing section of Konoha, a seedier, less attractive face to the village, is located in the opposite direction, but he doesn't mind going out of his way for her.

She stops him with a squeeze of his shoulder when she realizes where he's headed. "Don't. My parent's aren't ninja. They won't understand, and it will only scare them."

He nods once to show he understands her concern. "Right. I'll take you to Tsunade-baa-chan's."

"Naruto." She shifts on his back nervously causing him to glance back questioningly. He can almost see his breath in the chill morning air. "Maybe, maybe I want to go to your place," she says.

_You do? _he thinks, but instead of questioning takes off in the direction of his apartment with another nod, not wanting to risk her changing her mind.

He sets down in front of the door and awkwardly explains that his keys are in the front pocket of his backpack.

"You lock your door?" she questions as he lowers her to ground and turns to receive the bag.

He shrugs, not wanting to explain to her that it's not that he has anything worth stealing but that he discovered long ago if he didn't keep the place locked, villagers would take to daily vandalism. _Demon child. Monster._ Deadbolts won't keep ninja out, but he's not trying to.

He nudges the door open with his foot, shouldering the pack with one hand as he slides his other along the inside wall, searching for the light switch. He hears Sakura close the door behind them, and the lights flicker on slowly, illuminating the cramped space.

He tosses the backpack onto the kitchen's single, faded counter top and turns to her, one hand scratching the back of his head hesitantly. "You want a drink or something?"

She drops her own bag on the floor and reaches down to unhinge the clasps to her shin protectors. "Mind if I use your shower?"

She doesn't wait for an answer, but glances behind her once as if she'll invite him to join her before disappearing down the hall.

He sighs and busies himself preparing some instant ramen, wondering if food will fill the pit in his stomach. He's halfway through his first bowl when he realizes he doesn't have much of an appetite even though he hasn't eaten in the past two days. He sets the bowl in the sink with a loud clink of ceramic on metal and leaves the water boiling on the stove for Sakura.

"You should eat something," he says when he passes her in the hallway; she's wearing nothing but his blue bath towel.

He shuts the door to the bathroom more forcefully than he had intended but leaves it purposefully unlocked. As he slips under the stream of scalding liquid, he wonders if she'll be gone when he emerges. Water runs off of him in pink rivulets. It takes nearly a full bar of soap before he feels like he's finally scrubbed the blood away, and he's light-headed as he steps out of the shower.

Of course, Sakura took his last clean towel—serves him right for not doing the laundry—so he peeks his head out of the bathroom to make sure the coast is clear before darting across the hall into his room, even though she's already seen him naked. If she wants to pretend like nothing happened, he doesn't want to make it awkward for her.

It's cold. He bounces around, shivering in the dark, searching for something clean to dry off with when he suddenly hears an exasperated "Naruto!" and glances up just in time to catch the towel that is tossed his way.

He offers a sheepish laugh and grinning, wraps the towel around his waist. "Ah, Sakura-chan."

She's wearing one of his t-shirts. It swallows her whole, coming clear down to her thighs, and he can see the edge of a pair of his boxers peaking out from just below it.

"Hmm. Mmm." He scratches the side of his face, fidgeting.

She half-glares at him, but it's more curious than anything. "What?"

If possible, his grin widens as he answers, "How should I say this? You look kinda cute."

She doesn't say anything, and suddenly he realizes it was the wrong thing to say. He drops his hand to his side and falls silent, wishing he could take it back.

_I didn't mean to make it awkward._

"Thank you, Naruto."

He looks to her with a hopeful smile and wants to ask if she's really not going back to her parents tonight even though she's clean and presentable now, but he thinks maybe if he keeps his big mouth shut she'll stay.

"Ah. There's a laundry room downstairs, just let me get dressed real quick and—"

He stops when she closes the distance between them and grabs his wrist. His eyes are wide as she raises the underside of it to her lips and places the softest of kisses there.

"I don't care about that," she whispers just barely loud enough for him to hear. The sadness catches in her voice when she adds, "I want to heal you first."

"They're just bruises," he offers quietly but doesn't resist when she pulls him toward the bed. He understands that they must remind her of things she'd rather be forgotten.

He shivers as she runs her fingertips across his bare skin, but she's concentrating on her task, fading the marks before his very eyes; there's nothing sexual about it.

When she's finished, he doesn't know what to say.

"Sakura-chan, you know I—"

She leans in then and presses her lips to his, silencing him. He "mmm"s into her mouth, pleased at her affection, but he can't help but wonder if it's because she's afraid of what he'll say.

"Don't tell me you love me," she breathes when she pulls away.

He looks away, looks at nothing. "I was going to say I'd take the couch if you wanted to stay." He rises, suddenly needing to find some clean clothes. He knew this would happen, but it still feels like his heart is breaking just the same. He throws some clothes on, jeans and a t-shirt, not caring if they're clean anymore and without looking at her says, "Look, you should get some sleep. You're welcome to stay. I, uh, really need to do some laundry, so. . ."

She doesn't try to stop him when he goes, but notices that he doesn't take any of the dirty clothes with him.

* * *

Naruto lies on his back on the cold concrete of the academy's roof and stares at the muted sky. The sun is just beginning to rise. He's been out here for nearly two hours, and he's sure now Sakura will have fallen asleep, but somehow he can't bring himself to go back there. The trouble is he doesn't have anywhere else to go. He doesn't want to explain the painful situation to Iruka or Tsunade. Kakashi wouldn't bother to ask, but he'd turn him away at the door. He also has the sneaking suspicion that he's being childish about the whole thing. What had he expected? Actually he had expected _this_, but he had been dumb enough to give in to his desires anyway. 

"Get a hold of yourself, Uzumaki," he mutters as he stumbles to his feet. "You're making this awkward."

He lets out a final sigh and heads back in the direction of his apartment.

The place is dark when he returns, and he's thankful for this—that she's sleeping—as he tip-toes toward the couch and plops down tiredly, one arm slung across his eyes as he tries to drift off to sleep.

After a few minutes he can sense her presence and tilts his face back to look at her in the darkness. "You're awake." His voice is flat, and she doesn't answer. Propping himself up a little, he adds, "You waited up?"

"Yeah," she says, sliding into place against his side when he sits up. "I waited up."

He doesn't know what to say to that, but he doesn't want this to become an argument. He doesn't want to ruin their friendship or cause her to be more distant toward him. So he sits there, not saying anything, feeling the press of her against his side and waiting for her to speak.

"Naruto, I'm sorry."

He smiles wide and painful in the darkness even though he knows she can't see it. "It's fine, Sakura-chan."

She laugh-sobs a little and says, "You think I can't tell when you're hurting?"

He lets the smile fade, but doesn't say anything. It doesn't change anything if she knows. He fights the urge to shrug.

"Please, let me finish." She wraps her arm through his as if he might run away at any moment, but he doesn't relax against her. "You're my closest friend. And I thought I was going to lose you last night."

_You don't have to explain_, he wants to say to stop it because he's not sure he can take anymore, but she asked him to be quiet so he continues to sit there, trying not to feel.

"Ever since you came back to Konoha, I've. . ." She lets her voice trail off for a moment before finishing, "Well, I've noticed you."

She blushes despite herself, and he wonders briefly if she'll cover her embarrassment with anger like usual.

"I mean, I've tried not to, believe me. You're loud and immature and reckless and always getting into trouble."

"Saaakura-chan. . ." He frowns slightly, but finds himself relaxing into her side as he lets out a sigh.

He can see the corners of her lips quirk as she adds, "But you're always there for me. And I like being around you. I _like_ our play dates." She falls silent for a moment, serious when he finishes, "And if you tell me you love me, and if I think that I love you then . . . I can't help but feel like somehow along the way I've betrayed Sasuke-kun."

_He betrayed us first_, he argues mentally but it's a bitter side of him that he doesn't like so he keeps it to himself. Instead he offers, "You don't have to feel that way. I promised I'd bring him back for you didn't I? You think I'd try to get in the way?"

She slips her arms through his and pulls him tight against her. He sits there, staring into the darkness, hugged against her chest, unsure what to feel.

"You don't understand," she whispers, and the silence swallows her words whole. "You already have."


	4. Chapter 4

Naruto blinks in the darkness, not daring to move, heart pounding in his chest. "I didn't mean—"

Her fingers are rubbing small circles across his back as she says, "I know. I know."

He had to admit, it did feel a little bit like he was betraying his best friend even if Sasuke claimed to have broken those ties long ago. He almost couldn't believe it, what had happened in the just past day and her words now. After all this time, Sakura finally felt something for him, even if she hadn't specified exactly what. But she had been clear about the fact that she couldn't let go of Sasuke. He understood, because he couldn't let go of him either.

He wilts a little in her embrace. "Sakura-chan, I'm tired."

She pulls away, looking a little rejected. "Do you want me to go?"

He hates to see her look that way because of him, but he doesn't have the energy to try to reassure her. And hasn't he been straightforward about his feelings this whole time? He grabs her wrist, pulling her up as he rises. "No. Just come to bed with me. We'll think about it in the morning."

"Naruto."

"Yeah?"

She watches the smooth line of his backside as he leads her down the hallway. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

He shuts the door and crawling into bed, says, "I know."

* * *

He isn't surprised when the next morning he awakes to an empty bed, and for a moment he has the fleeting sensation that it was all a dream—a twisted dream, but not quite a nightmare. He's trying to decide if he should pretend like nothing ever happened at all or just give Sakura some space for a few days instead when he hears the soft clatter of plates in the kitchen. And suddenly everything feels surreal. This isn't something he's experienced before—waking to someone else in his apartment. He slips out of the bed, already reaching for the nearest crumple of pants before he realizes that he's already wearing a pair. That's right, he had left them on last night to make Sakura more comfortable. He scrunches up his face, frowning as he reaches down to readjust the crotch so that it's no longer twisted and stuck to the side of his thigh before shooting down the hallway. He's always been hot natured so that even in the autumn weather sharing his cramped bed with another was somewhat like sleeping in a sauna—not that he's complaining though. 

"Good morning, Saaakura-chan!" He suppresses the urge to "heehee" aloud at the scent of bacon as he plops down at the small table, hard enough to rattle the glasses.

Sakura glances at him over her shoulder from the stove, eyes flickering over the nakedness of his chest before answering, "Geeze, Naruto. It wouldn't kill you to keep some food stocked here." She frowns slightly as she adds, "And your milk was old. I had to go to the market."

He can't help but grin as he replies, "Did you get some more?"

She turns her attention back to the sizzling breakfast as she says, "Nope. I like orange juice better."

He turns his nose up at the idea, pouting at her back even though she can't see it. Really he doesn't care, after all he's glad she's just here, but secretly he suspects she enjoys his childish antics so he doesn't try to suppress them around her.

It's not until she's sitting across from him, scraping her food around on her plate that he begins to feel awkward again. In between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs he tries to thank her, but, "No one's ever made me breakfast before," slips out instead.

She just looks at him, and he wilts some because her eyes look a little sad and he has a feeling he knows what she's about to say.

"Don't worry; I won't get used to it," he adds quickly with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood but it sounds a little pathetic even to his own ears.

"Naruto, I can't do this. I just can't." The chair scrapes the linoleum floor as she slides back from the table, ready to bolt at any moment.

"Sakura-chan, wait." He nearly overturns his orange juice when he reaches for her arm. "You don't. You don't have to do anything."

_We can pretend like it never happened._ He doesn't want to say it. So instead he offers, "I'll let you call the shots. Whatever you want, however much or. . . little you want. . ." He looks away and lets out a sigh, but doesn't release his hold on her arm. He's surprised that he can't finish the sentence, can't actually beg her because God he wants to, but somehow he can feel the stubbornness set in. A friend with benefits, it's not what he ever imagined he'd boil down to. His jaw clenches at the thought, and glancing back to her, he snaps, "It's not like I asked you for a commitment."

When she averts her eyes he adds with a bitter laugh, "I gave up on that fantasy long ago."

It's not true, not really, but he hopes that it hurts her a little.

After a while she says, "I need to go home" because she can't bring herself to whisper _Just _w_ho are you? _

She looks to his hand where it grips her forearm, and reluctantly he slips his hand away, rises to show her to the door. He already knows where he'll be after this, working off his frustration.

"Naruto," she says, pausing in the open doorway, awkwardly. "Will you really? Give me anything I want?"

He shrugs, frowning. "I already have, haven't I?"

"And you'll let me decide?" She's biting on her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth as she looks off to the side. There's nothing to see there, and she lets her eyes trail up to his face. "When and how I want it?"

He just looks at her, but it's answer enough.

"Then. . . will you kiss me goodbye?"

He looks down to where her fingertips tentatively brush across the inside of his wrist and slide down across his palm. He tries not to grin as he locks his fingers with hers, but he can't help it, and she smiles prettily back at him. Her eyes linger over his bare chest which only makes him grin wider, but he decides not to tease her this time. Instead he leans in to smile against her lips. At the very least he knows she wants his body.

When she pulls away she breathes with a slight blush, "I'll give the report to Tsunade-shishou so you don't have to worry about it."

Which is Sakura's way of asking him to keep what happened that night between them. And then she's gone, disappeared into the maze of streets that make up their home village, without so much as a goodbye.

* * *

It's been three days, and Naruto is starting to regret that little offer he made. Normally he'd be stopping by the hospital every night to walk Sakura home so she wouldn't pull another all-nighter, but now because of his rashness he'd be infringing on her promised freedom. 

He grits his teeth when Kiba's claws graze his arm in a too shallow evade.

But Kiba doesn't use the opportunity to advance. "What the fuck's the matter with you, Uzumaki? Fight me serious or don't fight me at all."

Kiba turns his head abruptly and spits at the ground, narrowly missing Akamaru with his projectile saliva. He's scowling and probably fighting the urge to place his hands on his hips by the way he keeps twitching his fingers. Or maybe he's just going to throw a heated punch. Nothing really surprises Naruto when it comes to Kiba's anger.

"Come off it," Naruto barks back, but it lacks spirit.

"Ain't no room for thinking about a woman on the battlefield. Trust me—I know," he says, jabbing at his chest with a clawed thumb.

Naruto shoots him an incredulous look and plops down on the ground, pouting as he digs through his pack for some gauze and instead pulls out his lunch. "Yeah? What would you know about love?"

Kiba glares at him in return, looking more than a little insulted, but for the life of him Naruto doesn't get it. Furious, he refuses to speak on the subject anymore and Naruto is left to eat his lunch in silence. But Naruto's hated silence for as long as he can remember so he's quick to try to work a grin out of the boy with his usual antics.

"Fuck you, Naruto," he laughs and agrees to hang out later in the week if a mission doesn't come up. If—always if—because it's understood among them, the Rookie Nine and even Team Gai—_all_ of them—because their way of the ninja demands duty before friendship and love. Naruto's never been very good at that particular sacrifice, but he understands the importance and lets others make their own choices.

He'll be true to his own way of the ninja no matter what, but breaking a few plans won't risk ruining that.

"See ya," he offers when Kiba rises, dusting himself off and shooting Naruto a toothy grin before turning to walk away. He lifts his arm and waves once without looking back, already headed off to meet with his team. It's the one thing he refuses to be late to, no matter what, even after all these years. Or maybe especially after all these years. Sometimes Naruto thinks he can't understand a guy like him.

Now Naruto doesn't know what to do. He could go pester Tsunade for a mission to pass the time and earn some money, but he might run into Sakura in her office which would be more than welcome to him, but would it push her away? Has he already pushed her away? He doesn't think he can stand to lose another close friend. Damn that Sasuke for leaving him behind. If Sasuke was here. . . if Sasuke was here he wouldn't be in this mess. He'd know exactly where he stood in Sakura's eyes. _Everything is Sasuke's fault. _

With the familiar thought running through his mind, Naruto lies back on the grass and closes his eyes. Maybe he'll go play ninja with Konohamaru and friends, but the sun is warm and touches everything and he drifts off to sleep for a while.

* * *

Naruto awakens with a painful punch to his injured forearm. That kind of violence could only come from one person which means feigning continued sleep will only result in worse injury. 

"Owww, Sakura-chan."

He tries to sit up, but she pushes him back down.

"You idiot, what were you thinking? If you don't treat even small injuries they'll scar."

She's digging for some antibiotics, and he just watches her. It's already dusk. "You know I don't scar."

His words are quiet, accusing despite himself. She slows her movements but isn't willing to look back to him.

"I looked everywhere for you," she says. "I finally ran into Kiba outside Ichiraku. Are you. . . avoiding me?"

"What? I'm not—"

"Don't lie to me, Naruto!" She's looking at him now and he sits up at the seriousness of her accusation. "Why haven't—why haven't you been there to pick me up at night? Are you—do you—"

She upset, more with herself than anything but somehow it always comes out on him. She's upset because it's true—he _hasn't_ been avoiding her, he just simply hasn't come around. His sudden absence was jarring, and then she realized it—just how little she really puts into their friendship. When does she ever alter her plans in order to visit him? _I'm busy; I've got important things to do._ She's been repeating the lines all day but hasn't been able to make them ring true.

"Sakura-chan, I don't understand." He's whining, but he doesn't know what to do when she's mad at him. "You told me that it was a bother to you for me to pester you all the time."

On her part, she looks a little red in the cheeks. "That never stopped you before, idiot!"

He pulls her into a hug without warning, holds her to his chest and breathes in the familiar scent of her hair. Already he's angry at himself for breaking his word and infringing on her, but he needs to feel her against him. "Things are different now." He hesitates for a moment and then adds more softly, "I missed you," because it's true.

She's tense in his arms, causing him to loosen his hold in case she wants to pull away. But he doesn't know what he'll do if she reacts adversely to his affection. It's all so complicated now.

"I don't want things to change," she says, and he hopes it isn't her way of rejecting him.

"Okay," he says, and she does pull away then. "I'll walk you home tonight."

She smiles then, really smiles at him, and he can't help but think that he loves her. "Thank you. I have to get back now. If Tsunade-shishou finds out I took more than 30 minutes for dinner she'll string me up by my toes."

He laughs but it doesn't reach his eyes. It's nice though somehow that she took a risk for him, no matter how small. "Bye, Sakura-chan."

He's got just enough time to head home and grab a shower, stop by Ichiraku for dinner, and maybe hunt down Kiba to find out what exactly was said to Sakura earlier so he takes off as well.

* * *

When he picks her up just outside the ICU, he tries to act casual and she seems a little disappointed. He offers her a wide smile anyway and with his hands resting behind his head, asks if she's ready. 

They're halfway to her home when she finally works up the courage to say, "I'll come visit you more."

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye but continues his shuffling gait as if her words mean nothing to him. "I know you're busy, Sakura-chan. I'm not asking you to."

She's surprised, but what had she expected? Had she thought he'd jump for joy? Be _grateful_ for her mere attention? She's starting to feel more than a little ridiculous about the whole thing when his fingertips brush across her palm.

She can't help but smile as she slips her fingers between his and looking to him says, "You aren't very good at this letting-me-make-the-moves thing."

"Hmm." His lips quirk at the corners of his mouth, but he continues looking ahead as he walks. "I've never been very patient." Which means _I'm trying_.

They stop in front of the steps to her porch, and she turns to face him with her back to the house. She slips her hand from his.

"Thanks," she breathes, leaning into him. _I don't tell you enough._ "For walking me home."

And as she upturns her chin, he moves closer, moves toward her lips, ready. But the lights to the front porch flicker to life and the front door opens and she pauses, cheeks flushing at the thought of being caught.

He pulls back as she slips a safe distance away, already turning to receive her father's words, "Sakura, hun, come in. It's late."

"I am." She doesn't look back.

Her father nods once to Naruto with the sort of knowing look that only fathers of daughters can give, and Naruto nods back before shuffling awkwardly away.


	5. Chapter 5

It's disappointing but what had he been expecting? He understands just how Sakura's parents really feel about him—the villagers don't exactly make it a priority to keep their glaring disapproval of his life a secret. But as Naruto walks home alone, hands clasped behind his head, he wonders for the first time what they might have told Sakura about him and how much of it she's listened to. He sighs, but doesn't want to believe that after all these years she could somehow _not_ know him for who he truly is. She's one of the two people he's given himself fully to, offered everything—the good and the bad and the insecure—because the connection was worth it, so for her to not _know_. . . that might be a little too heartbreaking. So he doesn't think on it anymore as he shuffles along in silence, kicking at small rocks along the way to his empty, dark apartment.

Instead he decides that tomorrow he'll pester Tsunade for a mission (even a low ranking one) because he needs something to do besides worry over his former teammates all the time. If it was up to him, he'd be doing something—anything—to get Sasuke back, but with no information to go on for a location, there's not much he can do except wait and train. If he had just been strong enough to bring him back last time. . . He grits his teeth at the thought. He'll make sure the next time is different—even if it kills him.

* * *

Sakura is halfway up the stairs when her father says, "I'm sure I don't need to reiterate mine and your mother's policy on dating." 

She pauses, not wanting to look back in case her face betrays her. "No ninja. I know, daddy."

The rule's never bothered her before, in fact it was a nice excuse to finally offer Lee so as to avoid hurting his feelings, but for some reason the words feel sluggish and heavy when she speaks them now.

"Then want to explain what you were doing out there?"

Sakura does turn then, sighing because she's too tired to plaster on a fake smile but doesn't want this to turn into another late night argument. Her parents haven't quite caught up to the fact that she's effectively outgrown their parenting attempts even at this age. The fact is, she left her childhood behind the moment she became a ninja. "Naruto walks me home on nights I work at the hospital. You know that, daddy."

"Sakura," he's using that tone, the one that says he doesn't appreciate being lied to. But she's not lying. Not really. "I might not be ANBU, but I wasn't born yesterday. We said no ninja and we mean just that. It's for your own good, hun. You need someone who can be there for you, all the time, not just when they're free from missions."

She clenches her jaw at the hypocrisy of it, but keeps quiet as he continues. _I'm not a child anymore. _But she doesn't say it. She never does.

"You don't want to always be wondering if your husband will return safely this time, be there to raise your children and provide for your family. And besides, that boy is—"

_What? That boy is what?_ She feels her temper flare suddenly and irrationally as she realizes that she doesn't want to hear what he's about to say. "That's funny," she cuts in dryly. "You had no problem with my pursuing Sasuke-kun."

Her father frowns, voice rising as he answers, "And look how he turned out to be. That Uchiha is a missing-nin now, a traitor to our village."

"Don't. Don't you dare talk about Sasuke-kun!" She's practically screaming, hot tears springing up at just the mention of his betrayal, and she is angry, so very angry. At her father, at herself—for still allowing one boy to affect her so deeply after so many years. "And don't you talk about Naruto. Those are my _teammates_. You have no idea what they mean to me."

_I'd give up anything for them._

"Sakura, don't talk back to your father." Her mother stands at the end of the hallway, bundled in a pale yellow bathrobe, eyes tired as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Just what are you two arguing about now?"

"Look, honey, I know your friends are important to you," her father says, looking a little more sympathetic after seeing her reaction. "But there are things you can't possibly understand about the situation."

"What situation? Nothing is going on." Her voice cracks, and she turns away, dismissing the conversation by moving further up the stairs, but before she reaches the top she adds, "Naruto is a good boy."

She knows what her father is talking about, understands that in his eyes Naruto isn't just a ninja subject to mission dangers—he's the Nine Tails—but she isn't willing yet to admit knowledge on the topic because then they might find out how he'd attacked her unknowingly in his partial transformation. It wasn't his fault. She didn't blame him, but who knew how her parents would react.

* * *

When she finally falls asleep she dreams about Naruto. It's hot and sweaty where his bare skin presses against hers and they're in an unfamiliar bed, tangled in white sheets and pillows as his hand works furiously between her thighs. He's heavy on top of her chest. It's wet and the rhythm is perfect and when he moves to kiss her it feels so real that she actually wakes up. Somehow the kissing is always the best part. 

She lies completely still, eyes scanning the ceiling in the darkness and she feels a little hollow as she reflects that it was just another dream. In the past year she's had more than a handful of them, but they were always about Sasuke before now.

Part of her wants to go to him—_and say what?_—but in the end she simply rolls over, willing herself to fall back into the dream. They never seem to continue or pick back up once she's woken but maybe this time will be different because when it comes to Naruto it seems like anything is possible.

(Naruto dreams of free ramen and Uchiha ghosts and being lost in a never-ending forest during the day, forgetting everything after he looks up through the branches into the blinding sun because Naruto almost never remembers what he dreams.)

And the next morning she wakes early out of habit even though it's her day off. After breakfast and a longer than usual shower, she sits down to study for a couple hours because she's sure he'll still be sleeping.

* * *

At first Naruto ignores the banging on his front door because most likely it's the landlord come to nag him about any number of complaints the neighbors may or may not have made while he was away this last time, but when it starts to sound like the wood may actually splinter and give way under the increasingly powerful pounding he jerks out of bed. 

"Wha?" His eyes are half-crusted shut as he opens the door and slouches against the frame, trying not to frown. "Sakura-chan, why are you here so early? Are we going on a date today or something?"

She's already flushed from her assault on the door, but her cheeks visibly redden at his words. "You idiot! Why do you always think that first thing?" She raises her fist as if she'll punch him but instead sighs, "And besides, it's nearly one o'clock."

A knowing grin slips across his face and he's suddenly wide awake. "I notice you didn't say no."

She looks to the side, jaw clenched as she huffs, "Just get ready."

He doesn't wait for her to come in, rather disappearing down the hall to get dressed as she grumbles her way into the kitchen. After a quick stop in the bathroom to brush his teeth, Naruto bounces back to her side and asks, "So, what's the plan?"

She's resting her chin on one hand, looking up at him from the table with a bored expression. "I need to run some errands."

He plops down in the chair opposite her, pouting and already geared to resist. "Boring!"

He can complain as much as he wants, but it wouldn't be the first time he's followed her around during her shopping. He's discovered that when he carries the basket, she doesn't tell him to go away.

She actually smirks at him (and for a moment it eerily reminds him of Sasuke) and replies, "I thought you'd feel that way. So I brought this."

"A basket?"

He examines the item as she sets it on the table, not quite understanding. He knows what it is—but that can't be right.

"It's a _picnic_ basket, Naruto."

Sakura's never planned something like this before so hes not sure how to respond. His blue eyes lock with hers, searching and then a wide grin splits his face. He slaps his palm down on the table and rising, beams "I knew it, Saakura-chan!"

What he knows, he'll never say.

* * *

They haven't even eaten before she's straddling his lap, pushing him back onto the blanket. She assaults his mouth like she'll devour him on the inside, but he doesn't mind. It's a neediness he's familiar with. And he's willing to give her all of himself if it'll ease her desperation even a little. 

"I'm here," he breathes when she finally pulls back. "I'm not going anywhere."

She blushes a little and looks away.

He smiles and says, "I'm happy," but she answers, "I don't know what came over me."

"You don't. . . have to apologize." He's not happy anymore as he sighs, "I told you, didn't I? You can do whatever you want, no questions asked."

Leaves crunch beneath her weight as she rolls over onto her back and stares up into the trees. He watches her, wide-eyed despite himself and waiting for her to speak. Finally she answers, "What if I wanted you, right now?"

He can feel his face flush even in the cool breeze. "Sakura-chan. . . Someone might see."

It's not that he'd mind; he's never been one for appearances or to care what others think, it's just that. . .

He wants to reach over, brush the pads of his fingers across her forehead, but he won't—not until he knows what she really wants from him. He's already made up his mind to let her use him, in fact, he's even done it once (and surprisingly he came out un-scarred) but only if that's what she really desires. He doesn't want to be a _consequence_ when it comes to her.

It's true, in Konoha even the forest has eyes and ears, but somehow his reluctance bothers her. "You don't want anyone to find out?"

A soft noise of protest catches in the back of his throat, causing her to look at him but he's looking down now, teeth clenched as he fists the edge of the blanket in his frustration. "You know that's not why."

_How could she think—?_

"Then why?"

She knows why; he's thinking of her—trying to protect her like always, but for some reason she wants to make him say it. Even if she knows doing so is a little cruel.

"You really don't care if people know what you're doing with me?" He looks to her, and his eyes are so intensely blue—desperate almost—that she can't turn away, can't imagine telling him anything other than what she knows he needs to hear. He's her teammate after all.

But she doesn't know the answer, doesn't understand the conflicting emotions she feels, so instead she reaches up and pulls him gently to her lips. He resists at first, stiff and scared of where this is going (he doesn't understand either, and it's all so confusing now—who he is and what he means to the people he loves), but the kiss is soft and comforting and Sakura is warm against the cool air so he finds himself melting against her, melding into her curves until he's hugging her tight against him and resting his head on her chest. He's surprised at his own moment of weakness, vaguely concerned that this might be too much but she reaches a hand to stroke through his hair, distracting like before, and he closes his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she says, brushing over the edge of his ear. "I'm being selfish."

"I'll give you anything you want."

The words are so soft they barely reach his own ears, and he instantly regrets saying them. Even he knows it shouldn't have to be like this.

So he's thankful when she ignores them and instead says, "Let's eat. I made sandwiches."

* * *

Sakura gasps against Naruto's skin when he bumps her back roughly against the wall. Her arms slide tighter around him, fingers splayed across his back and she clenches her eyes shut tight where she presses her mouth against the soft flesh of his neck to quiet her screams. Her jawline aches where she grinds it against the jut of his collarbone and his breath is hot in her ear as he pants, rocking in and out of her in quick shallow pumps. She wants him; she wants him. She wants him deeper and harder, she wants her back bruised and to have imprints on her hips where he grips her, holding her up. 

"Naruto."

But she can't tell him any of this, can't speak past the whimpering of his name. It's better than the dream, better than the first night because it hurts at the same time so she knows it's real, but he never says anything and she wonders for just a half intake of breath if he's pretending she's Sasuke.

He doesn't know what to do when she starts crying afterwards.

She was wearing his jacket by the time they got back to his apartment—because it was windy and he's "hot natured" even though he actually shivered some on the walk back, and it was too big on her really but he didn't want her to take it off because it was _his_—and somehow her taking it off led to her taking her clothes off which led to their having sex. After all, there's no risk of being caught here so he was more than happy to fill her request.

The whole thing is probably a bad idea, but he can't bring himself to regret it. If anything he thinks he's a little happy now that he gets to share this with someone he cares so deeply for. He just wishes he knew why she was upset.

"What's the matter, Sakura-chan?"

* * *

The shop is small and crowded, lit only by the sunlight that streams in through the display windows. Naruto approaches the girl behind the counter with a half-grin and pretends he isn't tense. 

"Yo, Ino."

But he didn't come here to visit. It's only been a couple days since _then_ (and he hasn't worked up the courage to see Sakura since), but it's been years since he set foot in the Yamanaka's florist shop.

"Naruto." _What are you doing here?_ He can hear the words clearly in her tone, recognizes the familiar annoyance evident in her posture as she straightens and places the fashion magazine down onto the counter top. "If you're here to pester me about forehead girl I don't have the time. I'm _working_."

He shrugs, but doesn't explain that the last time he'd tried to get information out of her was nearly three years ago. He hasn't been back that long and he understands the kind of reputation he has—the impression he left on people; besides why else would he be here? It's not like he has anyone to buy flowers for.

Except that it's exactly why he's here.

He could have gone somewhere else, but he figured he might as well give Ino's family the business. Plus it's close by. "I'm just looking," he says and ignores Ino's curious stare.

She leans forward on her stool, propping her elbows on the counter and rests her chin in her palms thoughtlessly. "Oh?"

"Yeah." He relaxes his shoulders when his back is to her, sifting through the bundled flowers aimlessly. So many scents, so many colors. He's drowning in the sea of petals but too stubborn to ask for help.

When he extracts a handful of Killarney roses, she says, "Look, Naruto, I know you don't want to hear it, but you're wasting your time."

"Is that so?" He lets his gaze drop slowly, face hardening as he stares down at nothing and grips the bundle of stems hard enough that the thorns bite into the flesh of his hand. How many times has he coated his palm with blood? How many times has he sworn on the heat and pain and wetness that he'd never back down? His arm is trembling when he turns to receive her next words.

"Trust me. You don't want to buy those."

They cut him because she's not a stranger. And because maybe she knows Sakura better than he does._ Why? Why couldn't she love me?_ He wants to scream it at her, but he's stronger than that so instead when he reaches the counter he slams his fist down and offers her a determined half-smile. He won't back down. Isn't that his way of the ninja? At the least, he's certain she won't refuse his money.

His voice is thick as he says, "I think I do."

"Hm. That's too bad." She surprises him when she leans even closer and matches his smirk, her painted lips puckered just barely, and he can feel his blue eyes widen in the realization of her teasing. She plucks a slender stem from the vase beside her and twirls the white flower before his face, barely able to contain her peal of laughter as she explains, "Because I happen to know that Sakura _loves_ daisies."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** **Just to clear up a concern I noticed in the reviews: This story is strictly NaruSaku. Okay, so there are some moments of SakuNaru but seriously, don't worry about my little team7 obsession. Sasuke is not going to muck up the relationship nor get in on the action even if I do love to exploit the angst.**

**THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A LEMON. ****It has been edited to fit ffnet standards (ie nothing you wouldn't see in a rated-R movie which granted today is a lot, but still). I toned the wording down and ended up cutting out nearly half of it just to be safe. The full, unedited version is here: naruto. adultfanfiction. net/ story. php (question mark) no (equals) 600091863 & chapter (equeals) 6 If lemons or NaruSaku bothers you, please turn back.**

**Oh, and New-chaossapphire made an AMAZINGLY HOT, GORGEOUS NaruSaku art inspired by the picnic scene from last chapter. Seriously, it's simply awesome. Check it out at her devart here: new- chaossapphire. deviantart. com/ art/ Springtime- picnic- 63671387**

* * *

When she spots him in the crowded hallway as she hurries from one room to the other, maroon scrubs stained in dark patches with blood and thicker things, Naruto is suddenly glad that he forced himself to come. He watches her tear up as she hesitates, torn momentarily between her duty and her desire and then she runs to him, dropping the metal clipboard as she impacts with his chest. He can barely hear the clatter of the clipboard hitting the floor over the chaos in the corridor—yelling and hurried footsteps, rickety wheels on linoleum and swishing doors. Sakura buries her face against the front of him and fists his jacket with both hands. 

Naruto swallows thickly, stiff against her embrace. If the atmosphere wasn't indication enough, he is certain now: things have to be bad for Sakura to lose her composure like this. "Sakura-chan. . ."

But in the end, he's too afraid to ask. All of them understand that earning the right to wear Konoha's insignia, choosing that way of life comes with it's share of risk and loss, but he's not ready to give up the few important people he's managed to collect over the years.

"I thought," she says, and her words are muffled against his chest, "You were going to avoid me again."

He pulls back enough to slip the bundle of daisies from between them, letting his hand drop to his side. He doesn't have to look to know they've been crushed in the collision from her body. He failed to protect them in his moment of shock—in that instant she ran to him and he saw the unguarded sorrow in her face. She doesn't seem to notice, simply melding against him once more as he strokes her hair with his free hand.

"I wasn't—I came to pick you up."

He can feel the slight tremor to her body where she presses against him, so he moves one arm across her shoulders but she uses that moment to pull back, swiping at her eyes with the palm of one hand. When she looks up to him and tries to force a smile, he knows she must have lost several patients already that night. He's just hoping selfishly for both their sake's that none of them were their friends.

_What happened? __Who did this to us?_ The panic has just begun to set in his eyes, widening them even as the words catch in the back of his throat. He scowls quickly, chasing the emotion away for one he's more comfortable with: anger. Already he's thinking of the pay back.

"Sakura!" Tsunade bursts through the OR's double doors at the end of the hallway, searching for her apprentice and she looks older suddenly, face tight and lined with stress as she frowns. The air around her is smoldering, her anger tangible and hot enough to singe.

"I'm coming!" Sakura chokes, already turning away and she yells it again, louder: "I'm coming!" while her face hardens into a professional, disconnected mask. It's an expression he knows well, but he doesn't like it. She hesitates, scoops the clipboard from the floor and offers a quiet, "I'm sorry, Naruto," before she takes off, running down the hall.

Tsunade watches the exchange, frown visibly deepening as Sakura approaches. When Sakura is before her, she snatches the clipboard from her hands and snaps, "Go home."

"Wh—?" Sakura stiffens in shock, her green eyes wide and watery and tinged with red. "But, Tsunade-shishou, I—"

"That's an order. You're no use to me now."

It sounds cruel but somehow Naruto understands it's the old woman's form of compassion. The hokage disappears back through the double doors as quickly as she came, leaving her apprentice behind in stunned silence. Naruto glances down briefly and sighs as he looks back up, wondering just what he should do to make things better before shuffling forward to close the distance between him and his teammate. He slips his arm around Sakura's slender shoulders once more and she bristles, turning those shimmering eyes on him.

When had Naruto learned to move so fast? It's the first indication she's gotten to the extent of the shock on her system. Rather, when had she lost track of time. She nods dumbly and allows Naruto to lead her away. As he cradles her into his side, she says, "Lee-san."

He hitches in his steps, nearly sprawling them both forward and tightens his grip on her shoulder, but he doesn't stop. "What about Bushy-brows?" he asks without looking at her, voice thick.

Suddenly, she regrets saying it. She doesn't want to burden him with the knowledge, but it's already too late for that.

"Sakura-chan?"

He is looking at her now, and again she realizes that she must have lost track of time. They cross through a set of doors into the hospital's main lobby, and she answers, "He's in critical condition. They said it looks like he'll pull through. She wouldn't let me work on him."

Naruto relaxes into her—nothing noticeable, just a slight sagging to his shoulders, a firmer press of him against her side; she hadn't even realized he was tense. Not for the first time she wonders at his ability to hide his unhappiness. But it's a fleeting thought, quickly lost in the tumult of her emotions. "Why'd I become a medic," she continues, "If not to help those I love?"

If anything, she hates feeling useless. Hot tears well up at the thought. All this time, working so hard—was she able to change herself at all?

"Tsunade-baa-chan was just trying to protect you," Naruto sighs. Sakura doesn't answer so he doesn't push the subject; he's just relieved that they haven't both lost a friend. He vows silently to visit Rock Lee later and find out what happened (or pester the truth from the medical hokage) and glances down to the bundle of daises in his hand.

He should have known better—in Konoha beautiful things get bloodied a lot. The flowers are crumpled and ruined so he tosses them in the trash on their way out.

The walk home is mostly silent. He feels guilty for enjoying it even a little but it's not often that Sakura allows herself to rely on him, and when they near her house he begins to feel that it's the time to disentangle (after all, he doesn't want to make her parents dislike him even more), but she stops walking and when he pauses, wraps both of her arms around him, hugging herself against the length of him.

He feels himself hesitate before hugging her back, forceful and tight like he'll crush her with his own selfish need.

"Thank you, Naruto," she breathes against the base of his neck. "You're such a good friend."

He nods even though she can't see it because he's not sure he trusts himself to speak. His hold on her loosens, wilts at that last word, and he's thinking about telling Ino to visit her because she's probably better at _this_—comfort—than him (she'd at least know what to say) when Sakura rises up on her tip toes and kisses the edge of his jawline where it just reaches his ear. There's a moment where it seems that time has stopped just for him and he exhales almost as if in regret before he turns into her lips.

Afterwards, he's reluctant to pull back. He can feel the tremor of her fingers where they grip his jacket, and she says, "I'm not ready to go home yet."

"Sure, Sakura-chan." He slips a hand into hers and let's her lead the way.

* * *

Sakura closes her eyes and tips her head back, savoring the sensation of the night breeze as it ruffles through her hair. She grips the lengths of chain supporting her on either side and kicks out gently with her legs, feels the muscles tighten in her thighs even as Naruto propels her from behind. She rides the swing with a purpose—unable to truly relax—like if she wishes hard enough she'll actually get somewhere. Was there ever a night she wanted more to be able to fly? 

"I'm sorry," she says when Naruto's palms touch the back of her hips briefly.

He pushes her lightly, effortlessly. She surges forward, rising higher with each shove until the thick metal poles vibrate and clank under her momentum. Sometimes she forgets how much strength is hidden away behind his tan skin and lean muscles.

"For what, Sakura-chan?"

"I should have played with you as a kid."

For a moment he doesn't answer, just continues shoving her through the air, and she wonders if she's spoken it too softly. But then he laughs, "Don't worry about it. You had cooties back then."

"Naruto!" She's sailing through the air, having launched herself from the swing, but by the time she hits the ground and rolls, he's already off in a sprint across the playground. "I'll give you a cootie shot!" she huffs as she gives chase, trying not to laugh.

He lets her catch him because he wants her to and because he's half afraid she'll destroy the school playground otherwise. He might joke about it to others, but Sakura can be _intimidating_ at the best of times. He "umph"-s as he falls, impacting hard with the ground. Normally, he'd be more graceful (or at least agile) but she'd aimed her tackle for his legs, taking him down in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

"Okay, okay," he pants, "But only because you're a registered medic."

It's funny how he has the stamina to run miles before exhaustion sets in and yet this simple horseplay has made him breathless with joy. He tries to look sullen as he rolls over and lets her crawl on top of him, but he can't keep the grin from his face when she fixes her heated gaze on him—one that says she could swallow him whole and come back for more. For a moment neither speak.

He reaches a hand up to brush fingertips across her cheek and finally says it. "How many dead?"

"When I got sent away? Eight. Now?" She shrugs and looks away but he can hear the tremor in her voice when she says, "Most of them were genin."

He gets flashes of memories from their mission to Water Country and how they narrowly missed being slaughtered by an S-class criminal, the Demon of the Mist. They were young and naïve then with their whole lives ahead of them—unsuspecting. Naruto's learned the hard way that the concept _their whole lives_ doesn't really mean much when you're a ninja. "What happened?"

Sakura rocks back on his hips, staring up at the purple-black sky. He wants to say something to draw her back to him, but he can't think of anything other than how pale her skin looked in the moonlight their first time.

"It was a routine training exercise near the border. Near Grass Country. I don't know what happened yet, just that Team Eight has been sent to retrieve the. . . others." She can't say it: _the bodies._ Because that would mean to give up all hope.

He doesn't ask how many teams are still missing because it doesn't matter. Any Leaf is one too many. "We'll make them pay for what they've done. Believe me."

She does look at him then, startled by his outburst, and her eyes look haunted in the darkness. "Let's go home, Naruto."

She's not asking him to take her home to her parents. He knows this because she says _home_ like she says _ours_. Sometimes she says _Sasuke_ like this too.

He swallows against the dry patch in the back of his throat, and even though he nods his acceptance she explains, "I don't want to sleep by myself tonight," because she wants him to understand the full implication of her desire.

It puts him in a tough position because on one hand he wants nothing more than to give her what she's asking but on the other he doesn't want her parents to have a reason to dislike him even more. "But your dad—"

"It doesn't matter. My parents don't question me about my work because they know I'm not allowed to discuss it."

"But this isn't—"

She smiles wide and genuine for the first time that night. "It's team bonding."

* * *

Really, he couldn't have argued with that. Though in his opinion it's more like team _healing_, because he understands that's what Sakura really needs right now. He would too if he had to deal with the shock and stress she does on a daily basis all in the name of "saving" lives. (He thinks it's more like sewing them back together, forcing tissue and bone to mend, ordering bodies to keep on working even when they've been exhausted or shattered, beaten and poisoned.) She might not aspire to be Hokage but it's her own way of protecting the village—blood and gore, loss and all. And in the midst of all that, he wants her to know he's there to be her refuge. 

Even if it's in the only way he knows how.

It doesn't take much coercing to strip her of the bloody scrubs before he's lowering her to the bed, carefully, cradling her body against him with one arm across her back. She clings to him as he does so, arms snaking across his bare back instinctively, crushing her breasts against the front of him, hugging tighter and tighter, and for a moment he's afraid she'll cry (or maybe squeeze him to death). But with a little effort he's able to draw back enough to kiss her once, softly on the mouth. She relaxes, sighs beneath him. He lingers against her skin, reluctant to pull away before he presses his lips to her forehead and over each closed eyelid. All the while he rubs his thumb feather-light across her chin, cupping her jaw and wishing she could understand how he just _knows_ she's meant to be his.

He continues, peppering light kisses down her neck and chest. She lifts one hand to run her fingers through his hair and grips a fistful, tugging once involuntarily when his hot tongue dips along the crevice between her breasts.

_Beg for me._ He wants to say it, but he doesn't; he'll entice it out of her another way. His comfort giving has taken on a selfish edge, but he can't help it. He wants to make her body tremble with pleasure. He'll prove to her that he's the best when it comes to loving her.

He grips one breast and pushes it around with his hand, squeezing and kneading more roughly before slipping his hand down the soft line of her stomach and between her legs, brushing her with his thumb before he moves to spread her thighs. She arches her back as he rests her calves on his shoulders and reaches down to tease his fingers across her tender skin. He clamps one hand over her right knee and then eases two fingers in, twisting and squirming them as he crushes his palm against her in a slow circular motion. After a few minutes, her legs are starting to tremble so he positions himself against her. Her breathing hitches as he pushes his way in an inch at a time.

"This is real. We're real," he gasps. "Alive."

She nods, eyes closed and face scrunched from the building pressure. She fists the sheets as he increases his pace until he's nearly shaking from need. Screaming, she peaks violently several minutes later and without warning. She reaches for him, and he grabs her hand, pressing it into the mattress as her legs drop around him and he slows, pressing tighter against her until she wraps her legs around him and traps him in place. After a few minutes, his motion speeds again and she grinds herself against him with a swivel of hips, whining when he attempts to steady her in place with his hands.

"Not yet, Sakura-chan."

She doesn't know if he's referring to her culmination or his but it doesn't matter because she's close enough that his whimpering of her name sends her over the white-hot edge. It breaks him, and he shudders to a still against her. It steals his breath and momentum and makes his chest ache.

"Guh." It's not the most attractive response he could have offered to one of the best experiences of his life thus far, but as he buries his face in her neck and melts against her side, he doesn't care. He feels perfectly fluid as if all the muscles in his body have disconnected—like he'd trickle off the bed if she didn't have her arms wrapped around him. But she does and she's solid and she's his. Should be his. "Why don't you be with me? Forever."

It slips out before he can bite his tongue and he expects her to pull away, the moment ruined by his idiotic pressuring, but she doesn't. Her breathing is heavy and rhythmic. Her eyes are closed. And as she falls asleep, she sighs contentedly, "Okay."

* * *

The pounding at the front door is heavy and insistent but he knows it isn't the only person in Konoha worth getting out of bed before noon for because she's currently sleeping, spooned against the front of him. So he's all for ignoring it and hoping they'll kindly _go away go away go AWAY_ until Sakura elbows him in the ribs and grumbles a half-coherent version of "get the door, dumbass." Regrettably, he rolls out of bed and stumbles into a pair of boxers before padding down the hallway to whine at whoever's outside. It better be the bastard Sasuke come to beg his way back into their lives on hands and knees because, short of that, there's nothing worth being separated from _naked, dammit,_ _naked_ cuddling with Sakura. 

Naruto jerks open the door and frowning, blinks into the wash of early morning light. Of course, it's Sai. Who else would seek to ruin his otherwise perfect moment of existence? "What? What do you want?" he huffs and leans tiredly against the door frame.

The dark-haired ninja meets Naruto's sleep befuddled gaze with an impassive one. "Long night? You look. . . tired."

His expression gives nothing away, but Naruto can tell he's toying with him. "Hmph. Like I'd tell you."

He starts to shut the door with enough force to prove his point, but Sai cuts in, "Hokage-sama has summoned our team to her office, immediately," which gives him pause.

"So you came to get me."

Great, just great. Of all the times to get a call for duty. . . So much for next-morning sex. Or getting Sakura to cook for him again.

"I checked at Sakura's parents' house first," Sai explains. "They said she hadn't come home last night so I told them I'd look for her at your place. I told them I'm sure I'd find her here, though I didn't know what she'd want with a tiny dick like yours. Is she here?"

"You bastard." Naruto groans and runs a hand through his tousled hair. Forget the insult to his manhood—he'd be lucky if he even _had_ one after this. "You'd risk her anger just to make things difficult for me? Unbelievable."

Sai smiles, that creepy half-quirk of the lips that Naruto is beginning to discover is his genuine indication of happiness—or in this case amusement—as he stares over his shoulder into the living room.

"Whose anger?" Sakura's voice floats in, soft and curious from behind them.

"Ahaha, Sakura-chan, you're up!" Naruto turns to address her with wide eyes and an equally wide fake-grin, but still bodily blocks Sai from entering through the doorway. Is it too late to still hope for the '_go away go away go AWAY_'? "Tsunade-baa-chan wants to see us," he says, hoping to distract her from the question. If he's lucky she'll assume he's implying it's the older woman's anger without him having to openly lie.

He doesn't need anything that could possibly complicate the relationship right now.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Just in time for the holidays! Er, okay, so it's a few hours late. This chapter didn't turn out how I planned it would. Or rather most things I planned got bumped back to next chapter. Sorry for the long wait! School has been really busy and stressful lately, but I should have plenty of time for updating over Christmas break.

Hahahaha, evil cliffhanger of angsty doom... THERE WILL BE FLUFF NEXT CHAPTER! I promise. :D

* * *

Naruto cups his swollen cheek with one hand as he stands before the Hokage's desk, waiting for the final member of their team to arrive. He doesn't know why Tsuande's summoned him, but he can make a pretty good guess. It's possible that she's going to reprimand them for the previous night (it wouldn't be the first time she's told him to stop bothering Sakura at work) but if he has to, he'll stand up for Sakura and try to take the blame. 

But more likely, she's got a job for them to do.

"Any news?" he asks because he's anxious for action and too impatient to wait any longer on Kakashi.

As usual, Tsunade ignores his outburst. Instead she sighs, "Is it too much to ask for you boys to get along?"

She sounds tired and not at all like her normal, fiery self.

He doesn't have to glance at Sai to know his face is just as tender and bruised. "Hmph." The bastard deserved it, too. "Don't blame me, Tsunade-baa-chan."

It's a childish response, but he doesn't care. He's pissed and scared and doesn't know how else to hide it.

Tsunade lifts a small sake bottle to her lips, looking less than amused. "Is that so?"

Truthfully, Sai had taken a far worse beating than he had. He'd seen the blood Sai coughed up when Sakura landed a blow to his gut. But really he'd brought the punishment on himself. The diversion had actually worked until Sai had gone and opened his big mouth to correct Sakura's assumption.

"_I believe Naruto was referring to your anger, dog-face."_

As soon as Sakura found out that he'd told her parents that she and Naruto were sleeping together, it had literally been like a volcano erupted in his home. A volcano with molten fists.

It might be pushing it to ask Sakura to heal him later; she had refused to speak to him on the walk over, but the throbbing in his face is distracting and he thinks he feels a cracked tooth in the back.

If she keeps giving him the silent treatment he's not sure what he'll do.

Tsunade looks questioningly to Sai but when he only winces an attempt of his fake smile, she turns her gaze to Sakura instead. Naruto glances to Sakura, too, not sure what to say or how long she'll be mad at him, but she only averts her eyes, refusing to acknowledge his presence. Was she considering breaking it off already? Suddenly the thumping of his chest rivals the throbbing of his face for painfulness. God, he wasn't even sure they were really together.

Tsunade purses her lips, and he has a good idea of what she's about to say. _Please, don't bring it up, baa-chan. Not now._

"Yo."

Kakashi tips a wave from his perch in the window, and Naruto has never felt so relieved to see his jounin teacher.

"You're late!" Tsunade snaps in response, arms crossed over her large bosom.

Kakashi slips into the room with agility and ease. His visible eye crinkles—his own version of a fake smile—as he nods apologetically. "Well, you see, about an hour ago I—"

"Save it, Hatake."

"Yes, ma'am."

Kakashi falls into line before the desk, instantly serious, and Tsunade finally begins, though she first shoots Naruto a glare to tell him she's not done with their conversation.

"I'm sure you know why I've all called you here." She sets down the sake bottle with an audible clink as she continues, "Team Kakashi, I'm sending you on an A-ranked mission to our border with Grass Country. You'll meet up with Team Eight and go from there. They should have gathered enough intelligence to track any enemies involved in the recent attack. It's been indicated that the attack was from a member of Akatsuki capable of casting high level genjutsu."

"Itachi."

Naruto says the name with such bitterness that Sakura actually looks to him in concern. It's unusual for her blond teammate to give into darker feelings of loathing or ill-intent, but she can hardly blame him, considering. The thought that there are men out there who are waiting for the opportunity to kill Naruto—it's enough to make her tremble with anger (and fear) as well. If he _ever_ lays a hand on her precious teammate she'll make sure he fully comes to regret it before he dies. And then there's the immense pain he's caused Sasuke over the years. There aren't many men she'd willingly torture (and heal and torture again), but he is certainly one of them.

"Sasuke's after him too, right? So if we find him first. . ."

Hearing Naruto talk about bringing Sasuke back so often makes her a little sad—she knows now that he's suffered from the loss so much more than she has—but it also gives her hope. If anyone can save their former teammate it's Naruto.

Tsunade looks down at her desk. She rubs a finger around the rim of the sake bottle, voice softer when she answers, "Naruto. . . You should know, there are recent reports that Sasuke's defeated Orochimaru, and that he's formed his own four-man cell."

Sakura's stomach drops leaving her with a cold, tight feeling in her gut, but Naruto's whole face lights up at the news. "Really? That's great! Then he's coming back finally. To Konoha."

The medical hokage doesn't answer, but her silence is heavy with the truth. Even still it takes a moment for the realization to set in.

"Naruto. . ." Sakura can almost hear his heart breaking in the quiet of the room.

He lowers his eyes, mouth winced to keep from crying as he realizes aloud, "He's not coming back."

"Naruto." Sakura steps toward him, arm outstretched to touch his shoulder, but he pays no attention to her as he continues, voice shaking, "He's not coming back until he kills Itachi, is he?"

She wants to say,_ He's never coming back_, but the knot in her chest is too hard and painful to force to words around. She hates him. She hates him for leaving her, and she hates him for leaving Naruto more. And she misses him. But if Naruto gets himself killed trying to take down Itachi for Sasuke's sake, she might not be able to go on.

"Please, Naruto." _No more, let's give up._ She takes his hand, and he finally looks at her. His eyes look intensely blue and reflect a range of emotions.

"I swear to you, Sakura-chan. I'll kill Itachi and then I'll bring Sasuke back."

He forces a wild grin, confident and determined like he could take the whole world on and win, and in that moment she wants to believe him. But he's gripping her hand so tight it hurts.

Before she can answer, Kakashi clears his throat.

"As wonderful of an ambition that is," he drawls, "It might be more fruitful to capture him instead."

* * *

It's too much—too much for her in one day. Naruto and Sai and her parents and Naruto and Sasuke and Itachi. And Naruto. In the course of only a few hours, she's felt blissful and enraged, betrayed and worried and hurt and afraid. . . She just couldn't bear to feel anymore, even if she knew it was her teammate who was asking her to. 

After the meeting she'd left immediately under the guise of needing to pack for the mission. Naruto had tried to follow her out of the office, (Should she have comforted him? What if he'd wanted to talk about the situation with her parents?) but Tsunade had barked at him to stay, and she'd thankfully taken the opportunity to slip away. Didn't he understand? She didn't have any answers to offer him, but the look on his face when she broke his hold on her hand was enough to make her heart ache.

"I heard you've got a mission first thing in the morning, Forehead girl. Thought I'd stop by and see if you wanted some lunch."

Sakura glances up from the medical text and sighs. In the last two hours she hasn't even made it half-way down the page. It's truly a rough day when Haruno Sakura can't find the drive to study. She tilts her head to one side, massaging the back of her neck with one hand as she considers Ino's offer. "How'd you know I'd be in the neurology archives?"

Ino hums noncommittally and closes the large book with one hand. The resulting clap shatters the atmosphere in the room, irrefutable—the loud sound of finality. "Maybe because it's the only place Naruto never thinks to look when he's searching for you?"

"That's not funny, Ino-Pig." She can feel herself scowling at having been so easily read. Was their relationship really that transparent to everyone?

"You keep frowning so much and you'll get a wrinkle between your brows."

Ino's impervious attitude is (irritatingly) refreshing in the way that it always manages to cheer her up, regardless of everything, regardless of the ups and down of their past—it's one of the few constants in her life, so she smiles weakly as she relents, "Barbecue or Dumplings?"

But of course, she already knows the answer.

Thankfully, the other members of Ino's team are tactfully missing during the lunch. Ino, on the other hand, has always chosen the more abrasive route.

"You shouldn't avoid him."

Sakura nearly chokes on a half-chewed piece of meat at the opinionated accusation. She grabs for her water, draining the glass completely in her desperation to swallow the lump down.

When she can speak again, she complains, "I didn't ask for your advice, Piglet."

Ino shrugs an I-don't-give-a-damn, and it's a somehow soft and feminine gesture. "I'm right on this."

"You don't even _know_—"

"He deserves better than that, Sakura." _He's invested too much into you to be played around with that way. _Her blue eyes darken with the thought, her face a clear indication of what she won't say, but it's not meant out of unkindness or spite.

It's sobering to hear her friend speak so seriously; it makes the situation seem wrong, so very wrong. Ino's expressions are bitchy-sneers or the pretty fluttering of eyelids, meant for gossip and rumors and back-handed compliments or beauty advice in the form of snide remarks—not concern for others, and most especially not concern for Naruto.

As unlikely as it seems, she has to check: "Did Sai talk to you about this morning?"

Ino stops pushing the barely-eaten rice around in her bowl, lowers her chopsticks to the table with a slow, deliberate gesture. "You're not getting this through your thick forehead, are you?"

_Of course I get it, I'm the smarter of the two_, she wants to snap, but she can't bring herself to say anything.

After a solid minute of silence, Ino gives for once and redirects the conversation in an attempt to salvage her friend's emotional state. "Is it true your team is aiming to take down Uchiha Itachi?" she asks, quietly.

Well, so maybe it's not the best topic she could have chosen, but it's too juicy of information to pass over.

"Yeah." Sakura continues to stare at the wooden table top, rubbing circles over the sweat rings ingrained by her cup.

More minutes pass between them.

Ino sighs, seemingly coming to a contentment. "I've decided. When you bring Sasuke-kun back, I'll give him to you." _If anyone can do it, it's you._

Sakura's green eyes widen.

"Don't think that means I've lost," Ino snaps, feeling embarrassed over her mangled attempt at reaching out to her friend. "I've just found someone more _worthwhile_ to set my sights on."

When Sakura rises to leave, Ino is quick to add, "You should, too."

"Yeah. . ." Sakura hunches into herself subconsciously, back turned to the table. She hovers, uncertainly, stalled for the barest of moments before she jerks toward the door.

"Sakura."

"Yeah?"

"What are you going to do?"

When Sakura finally looks back, her jaw is set in a hard line. Her lips twist in a grim smile. "Isn't it obvious?" she says, loud enough for the whole diner to hear, so loud that she hopes the strength of her voice will have drowned out the fear. "I'll protect him, no matter the cost."

It's what she's been training for all these years. Maybe she didn't realize it at first, she'd simply been terrified of being left behind (both physically and in skill level by both her boys), but somewhere along the line her focus shifted slightly, imperceptibly, to where the sweating and the pain and the long nights were no longer hers but for the sake of someone else. Someone with bright blue eyes and an unrelenting smile who was more easily wounded than he liked to admit. Someone who needed her more than she needed him.

* * *

Sakura almost wishes she'd been lying about needing to pack for the mission. If the majority of her clothing and supplies weren't located within her parent's house she could potentially have avoided them forever. 

At least the fight hadn't been until after dinner.

She'd been surprised to find herself standing up for her potential feelings for Naruto nearing the end of the screaming match. Her mother had broken all three dinner plates against the wall before the fight moved out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Her father had threatened to "speak with the Hokage on the matter," among other things.

It was unnerving, defending emotions she barely understood herself. But she knew it: Ino was right, so she told them, "Naruto deserves better than that" which made no sense at all in the context of the conversation and only served to further incense her parents. But she'd felt a bit triumphant tossing the remark at them like a worn kunai just before disappearing out her bedroom window, shoulder pack slung single-handedly across her back.

They couldn't keep her in the house, and if they wanted to kick her out, she'd deal with it later. First, she had a mission (and a teammate) to attend to.

As she leans over the bridge's red, splintered railing to peer into the darkness of the stream below, she thinks for the first time that night that she has done a very foolish thing. She lets the backpack drop to her side and sighs heavily, chin resting on top of her hands. Was she really that stubborn—to follow through with her threat to move out?

She loved her parents and didn't want to foster a bad relationship. Why couldn't they understand the importance of certain aspects of her life?

She can hear the soft footfall of sandals scrapping the slats of the bridge and doesn't have to turn to know who it is. The pace is slow, reluctant and stops several feet away.

When he doesn't join her by her side, she turns green eyes in his direction, questioning.

"Ah, Sakura-chan. I checked at the hospital, uh, I thought I might walk you home." He fidgets, looking uncomfortable in his skin. His pain seems nearly tangible where it hangs about him in the air.

She feels burdened and sad, realizing that he must be terrified she'll let him go so easily. Had he taken her answer seriously when she relented to being 'his' the previous night? Had she taken her answer seriously?

_Have you been looking for me all day?_

She doesn't say it, doesn't even want to think it for the guilt and even worse—happiness it brings (She's a horrible person, really. How can she feel pleased to know that Naruto cares about her 'that much' when he's here before her in such obvious pain?), instead slipping forward in silence till she's standing at his side, facing the opposite direction. After all, the answer's already written on his face.

He doesn't speak either, just continues staring straight ahead into the distance, slightly wide-eyed and back so tense she thinks he'll snap when she finally passes him by.


	8. Chapter 8

Naruto swallows hard when his words seep into the night air unanswered. Sakura looks at him like she's looking right through him, and he's never seen her appear so drained. He'd say she's utterly expressionless except she looks so damn tired as she steps forward to close the gap between them. _You're still beautiful._ He can taste the words on his tongue, but he knows: now's not the time.

He steals quick glances at her out of the corner of his eye when she pauses by his side. And he can't help but feel afraid.

What will they be after this—after she keeps walking and chooses to leave him behind? He's not foolish enough to think they'll be able to go back to normal, no matter how hard he tries.

He didn't want to become just another black mark in her existence, another heartache. This is why he shouldn't have given in that first time in the forest. He could have been happy as her friend forever, knowing he was valued at least in that way: he didn't have to be her everything. It's a pretty lie, but pointless and mostly just upsetting.

Gingerly, she hooks her arm through his and leans her weight against him, head resting on his upper arm. He feels panicky, flighty—worries he'll break under the weight of the silence, and it takes several moments for him to relax into her. She clings to him, but he can tell it's more out of exhaustion than anything.

"It's been a long day."

He nods his understanding, but really it doesn't tell him anything. He wants to put his arms around her but refrains, fearful she'll pull away. Fox chakra rises just beneath his skin like a red-hot tide. It ebbs almost immediately, leaving an icy burn in the hollow of his chest. It's an uneasy feeling—a false sense of security at best; he knows better than anyone how it can come crashing down in an instant, drown him in his own tumult of emotions without warning.

He shuts his eyes tight to keep their cinnabar coloration from giving him away. _Don't look; don't look at my face. Don't look._

"Sakura-chan?"

Her fingers coil through his, pressing their palms together. "I told them. I won't give you up."

He's surprised when he feels the first hot tear bead and streak down his face.

* * *

The thick, beryl-green coating sheens in the overhead light as Sakura examines the nails on her right hand from every possible angle before bringing them to her puckered lips. She exhales a cool breeze across the painted tips, shakes her hand to fan it in the air. 

"I'm not sure I'd call this 'preparing for the mission', Sakura-chan."

Naruto puffs air lazily across Sakura's left hand where he lifts in front of his face. But he's not complaining. . . mostly. After all, he'd chosen to accept the dainty hand she offered him, knowing full well what she wanted.

Honestly, he's just happy to see Sakura so at ease in his apartment. In the past few days it's felt more like a home than it has in years. Hell, he's just happy to see her _in_ his apartment, period, as not less than thirty minutes ago—well, he didn't think it was ever going to happen again. And now she was wearing one of his over-sized t-shirts, hair tied back in a messy bun while she painted her nails on his bed.

She doesn't rise to his banter and it falls quiet save for the hushed sounds of their fanning.

"I'm sorry." She has to force the words out finally, annoyed with herself at the difficulty it takes to push her pride out of the way even when it's for his sake.

He pauses mid-blow. He doesn't roll his eyes up to look at her from where he sits cross-legged on the bed, chin resting in the palm of one hand, elbow propped on one knee, but his fingers flex barely against hers where he grips her hand.

"I didn't think you'd get so worked up just because I was mad at you."

He'd jerked her into his arms without warning, squeezed her so tight against his chest it'd been hard to breathe.

Naruto laughs, scratching the side of his nose sheepishly, but the gesture lacks any real weight. He knows she doesn't like him to pretend with her, but having covered up his emotions for so many years makes it a hard habit to break. She scrutinizes him, and he can tell that it's nagging at her—the slight annoyance over her own obliviousness, the inability to pinpoint the source of her unease.

She has no idea he thought she was going to dump him.

(Or would that be 'call off their agreement' because he's still not sure they're even 'together' in her mind.)

It's cute and saddening in a way, but also a relief, and he's not about to clue her in.

_I forgive you._"Hmph, you should be. But more importantly, what are you going to do to make it up to me?" His smile is genuine this time as in the end, he can't resist the urge to tease.

She swats at him, nearly overturning the bottle of green nail polish on the mattress and he yelps.

"Hey, watch it!" he grumps. "I don't have spare sheets."

She lets the full horror of that statement wash over her for now (sometimes she wonders how the boy has managed to get by on his own all these years), momentarily distracted. "Here, gimme your hands," she commands, trying to curb her break-away smile.

Her nails are mostly dry now but he's furrowing his brows in exaggerated distrust as he eyes her, scowling to hide his trademarked, idiot grin. Finally, he relents, offering her his hands but still whines, "It'll look girly," when she extracts the brush from the bottle, wiping excess polish along the inside rim.

She paints only the thumb on his left hand.

"There," she says, blushing prettily, but he doesn't quite understand.

She starts on her toes in long, thick strokes, needing an excuse to avert her eyes. She doesn't look up when she explains softly, "This way everyone will know you're mine."

His brain lags in its attempt to process the meaning behind her words, momentarily doubtful he's heard her right. He sucks in a sharp breath, chokes on the gob of spittle that lodges in the back of his throat, nearly pitches off the foot of the bed. "Guh."

When he's finally able to regain his composure (chest bruised from the pounding of his fist for air), he muses aloud, "I've never been owned before."

He has the sudden impulse to add something silly like _take good care of me_ but keeps it to himself, blushing fiercely at the thought.

"Idiot." She still hasn't looked up from her toes, but he can see the rosy tint to her cheeks.

He wants to kiss her. He reaches out to snag her attention with the sleek brush of his fingers across her forehead, but she says, "I'm thinking about getting my own apartment," and he freezes, hand mid-air between them.

God, this was turning into one shock to his system after another. Did this mean her parents were kicking her out? He clenches and un-fists his hand, dropping it back to side in thoughtful silence.

"I don't think you should live by yourself." His voice comes out more strained than he wants her to hear when he adds, "It's lonely."

She glances up, eyes locking with his and, worried she's mistaken his intent, he's quick to clarify, "Maybe Ino or—"

"Naruto, this apartment is too small for two people."

Her tone and expression are serious, utterly devoid of the playfulness she'd shown him not five minutes ago. He feels like he's trapped himself: look at the foolish fox getting his hopes up over the thought of cohabitation with a sometimes-lover he's not even sure wants to be his girlfriend. Isn't that funny.

He lowers his eyes, trying not to grimace at the sudden twinge in his chest. "I wasn't. . ."

"Did you plan to live here forever?"

His face was going to burn off if this kept up much longer. What was she getting at? "Er, I hadn't thought about it. I mean, no. No, I don't." Unsure he can handle any further implications (rather: not wanting to actually get his hopes up) he cuts in, "Uh, ready to get some sleep, Sakura-chan?"

She eyes him suspiciously but sets the bottle on the bedside table and, testing to make sure her toes wont smudge, crawls under the comforter with a huff. She rolls her back to him and curls in on herself. Hugs a pillow to her chest.

He inwardly groans, rolling his eyes to the ceiling in a why-me gesture of exasperation. If he wasn't so much of a coward he'd ask her if everything was all right concerning her home situation. But he also knows that she'll talk to him about it when she's ready.

He flicks the lights off and sets the digital alarm for 4:30 a.m. They're set to meet at the gates by 5:05 a.m. which is less than six hours from now. On second thought, he sets the alarm for 4:15 in case he can convince Sakura to take a joint shower. It wouldn't do to feel rushed.

They should be ready and on their way to the border before sunrise. That is, assuming Kakashi-sensei wasn't overly late.

He's not sure if it's okay to strip naked (he's pretty sure Sakura's not in the mood and would take it the wrong way), but he doesn't want to sleep in a pair of pants again and briefly pauses to weigh the consequences. Normally, he'd be willing to risk the elbow to his jaw before being thrown out of bed with the order to put some clothes on, but his face is still tender so he ultimately settles on a compromise of some pale blue flannel pants sans boxers. And since it is actually getting colder, his favorite black and white night cap.

"You still wear that thing?"

Sakura's voice from the darkness gives him pause. Had she watched him change into his pajamas? Though probably she had looked over after he accidentally kneed the dresser.

"You're just jealous," he teases as he eases himself onto the bed, hands searching for her under the covers.

"It's nappy. When's the last time you washed it."

She scoots closer to him when his hand snakes across her stomach.

"Don't you dare," he hisses, finally settling against her. He breathes deeply the scent of her hair, noses her shoulder blade.

Hours later she reaches across from him to silence the alarm. He wipes at a patch of crusted drool in the corner of his mouth, rolls onto his stomach and buries his face against the pillow. She kisses a chaste line down his spine. Un-bunching the sheets from around his hips, she covers half-way up his back and hesitates, watching as he lightly snores. It's not the most attractive image in the world, but it's him and she's finally willing to admit to herself that it makes her happy. Biting at her bottom lip to suppress a smile, she reaches out to run fingers along the worn edge of his night cap, rubbing her thumb back and forth against the soft fleece where it touches the top of his ear. Silently, she slips out of bed and pads across the carpet, heading for the bathroom. She can at least let him sleep until she's finished with her shower.

* * *

Kakashi is only late by a few minutes (which is unusual in itself) and when he arrives he has Yamato with him. "Hokage-sama decided Naruto could use an extra escort," he explains as the puff of smoke dissipates from around them. 

Naruto huffs and Sakura only nods. Sai doesn't do much of anything. From the looks of things—Naruto's obvious glower, his and Sakura's proximity to each other yet distance from Sai—this could only mean one thing.

"Sai, try to refrain on the insults for the duration of this trip, please."

Sai is quick to verbally comply but it's essentially the equivalent of a shrug. Yamato shakes his head: _It's something different this time_. But catching Sakura's growing discomfort, Kakashi lets the matter drop.

"Okay. Let's head out."


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: **So sorry for the wait! This semester ate me whole (woe), but now it's summer time so... forgive me? Hee. :3 Thanks to everyone who did stick around and didn't give up on the story. Will try to provide you with more NaruSaku sexins ASAP or whatever it is that you people want to read, kukuku.

* * *

Winter has started to set in with an icy finality in Fire Country. Sakura's breath puffs out in hazy clouds as she runs. And the tree branches crackle with every step.

She huddles further into her wool cloak, hugging herself in the futile attempt to keep warm. The air cuts at her face and neck; it wears at her, rubs her raw as the shadows lengthen throughout the day and the sun sets behind them.

Naruto, as usual, seems impervious to the climate change. He pushes the group to run faster despite Kakashi's repeated warnings against straying too far ahead and risking separation. But he won't be collared and leashed, not when news of Sasuke is on the line. It dangles just before his face like a tangibly delicious morsel of meat, raw and driving him.

At first she'd thought he'd increased his speed as the day wore on, the temptation too much for him, but then she realized: it was she's who'd started to slow and fall behind.

It's frustrating but she can't deny that she holds the lowest stamina of the five. Yamato shoots her a look from his position at the rear but keeps his thoughts to himself. Sai drops back from directly in front of her and runs along side, a queer grin peeking at the corners of his lips.

His breathing is untraceable in the dusk air, and she wonders not for the first time whether he's really human.

"Shall I carry your bags, Hime-sama? Perhaps if you lost a little weight you could better keep the pace?"

Sakura re-shoulders her pack, scowling as she doubles her stride, and fights the urge to take a sudden swing at her dark-haired teammate. As much as she'd love to hear him shatter every icy limb from here to the ground, it wouldn't be the most conducive response for the mission.

Sai languidly weaves between a cluster of branches, disappearing around the side of a thick oak trunk before slipping back into place at her side. His bodily is perfectly fluid like a dancer, in harmony with itself and nature. He makes it look effortless when she feels as if she has to force herself through, cutting through air like water with her torso angled forward, her legs pumping against the sky.

The prick has been pestering her since they'd left that morning. What exactly has gotten into him? Though it's true most of his offers are backhanded insults. If he thinks she doesn't belong on the mission as a chuunin he should just say so. No matter how hard she's worked up till this point, traveling with three ANBU class and a jinchuuriki, she's the weakest link in the chain anyway she looks at it.

"I'm fine, thanks."

Naruto glances back, features squinted in concern. For a moment it looks as if he'd forgotten she was even there, like she's caught him in that moment between wake and sleep when reality was just fantasy and now he's not quite sure that reality is really _her_. Her chest tightens at the look of confused anguish in his blue eyes. It's obvious he's torn between slowing for her sake and pushing himself harder for Sasuke's. But she doesn't want that, not from him. Naruto should never have to choose.

Digging in her back pouch, she produces a small soldier pill, rolls the shiny, black ball between two fingers.

"Naruto-kun," Kakashi calls from ahead of her. "I'm getting tired as well. Let's stop for the night."

"Kakashi-sensei." She's not a little girl to be protected. She's not some god damned china doll. "I don't need your—."

"We're going to need to be at full potential should we actually run into Itachi," Yamato cuts in, siding with his senior. "And the sun is already falling."

For a moment Naruto doesn't answer, doesn't even look back as he sprints through the trees and she wonders if he's considering leaving them all behind. But then he grunts his understanding and drops down into the chill darkness below.

* * *

It's not long before they've eaten and begun to settle down for the night.

He scoots his sleeping bag up along side hers, head ducked and looking sheepish as he waits for her reaction. He knows she's not exactly comfortable with his attention in public, but the past couple nights have been promising enough and he's wound tight enough from the pressure of the mission that he's pushing her anyway. And in a way, he needs this—for her to acknowledge him before the rest of their team.

She looks up, surprised, hands stilling where she digs through her bag. He'd been driving himself so hard, completely focused on the mission the whole day (_ignoring her_) that she'd assumed they'd be operating much in the way they'd always had, before. By which she means as 'teammates' and nothing more.

It was true that Naruto usually kept closer to her than he did to Sai, but he'd never actually slept along side her before, bodily within arm's reach—he was one to plop down without thought or concern some short distance away, instantly comfortable wherever—and she has the nagging feeling he's secretly asking for more than to just align his sleeping bag to hers. A quick glance around the fire and she spots Yamato's face, eerily shadow cast as he watches her, and she looks back to the contents of her bag, cheeks hot at the implication. _Dammit, Naruto._

For the briefest of moments, she wants to refuse him. She could blame it on the embarrassment due to the presence of their jounin instructors, but if she's honest with herself the urge is mostly spiteful. Okay, so maybe she resents him a little for neglecting her all damn day. Why should she have to cater to his desires on a whim now?

But she understands: touch is important to him—he who grew up without the assuring caresses of a mother, who had been shunned by the villagers for as long as he could remember. And it's obvious to anyone how much the ache for Sasuke is weighing on him. It's settled in the stiffness to his shoulder blades and in the jut of his clenched jaw. Standing there, looking down at her with those darkened blue eyes, he looks like he'll break if he doesn't start taking better care of himself, if someone doesn't take care of him _for him_ while he's busy running himself into the ground over their rogue teammate. She wants to tell him that they'll find him together, that he doesn't have to shoulder the burden alone, so she unzips the length of her sleeping bag and spreads it out between them, the resulting space wide enough for two people, before she resumes searching through her pack. It's the only invitation he's going to get.

Luckily for her, the barest of concessions is all Naruto ever needs. His face lights up at her acceptance, and he's quick to join her on the blanket, unzipping his own bag to serve as a cover.

He's started to exclaim how much better it will be by sharing body heat.

He pauses, both his outburst and the unzipping, shooting a glare to the side as Sai unfurls his own sleeping bag. "What the hell do you think you're doing, bastard?"

Sai smiles, doesn't bother to look up where he smooths the crinkles from the surface of his area. "I read the best way to form a bond between and man and a woman—"

"Hell fucking no!"

Naruto's up and on his feet faster than Sakura can attempt to calm him. Sai remains crouching but quietly grips the short-sword's hilt on his back. She's effectively caught between the two and not at all in the mood for a fight.

"Naruto!" the pleading is evident in her voice as she tries to diffuse her red-hot teammate. "Hey, come on. It's just his way of apologizing. Right, Sai?"

She shoots him a look that begs _Lie, lie, for the love of God lie!_

For his part he lowers his hand from his weapon, drops the smile. "If you want to think of it that way."

It's not a 'yes' but it's also not a correction so she jumps on it.

"See? Just a misunderstanding." She's forcing her own version of a placating smile, and Sai tenses reflexively. He's learned not to trust her smiles but not which smiles are for what or even which smiles are fake.

Naruto on the other hand, can spot an empty expression from her a mile away. He doesn't look convinced. In fact, he looks suspiciously like he's pouting. Or considering jumping Sai anyway, or both.

She reaches up to tug at the jacket sleeve around his wrist and he finally relents, plopping back down onto the spread sleeping bag, arms crossed over his chest and scowling. "Hmph."

She's not foolish enough to think he's bought her explanation; he's an idiot but often only when he wants to be. And often only for _whom_ he wants to be. So as a distraction she extracts a small vial of oil from within her pack and offers it to him. She makes sure her fingers brush the sensitive under-skin of his wrist as she asks, "Help me rub it in, would you? My legs are killing me."

Well, it's not completely a coy act, she had actually been digging for the treatment before he interrupted her the first time.

Naruto uncorks the bottle, never taking his eyes off Sai. Irritatingly, her offer doesn't seem to affect him in the way she'd planned. She makes to grab for the bottle, face tinged with embarrassment, when he instructs Sai to, "Move over on this side. And if you so much as touch Sakura-chan, I'll kill you."

Her eyes are wide at his reaction; it halts her pathetic attempt to reclaim the bottle. It's like she doesn't even exist in this moment even as he refers to her. Why does she suddenly want to grab him, force him to recognize her and command his attention? But it's not like he's completely forgotten her; it's an inexplicable yearning and makes her feel both childish and petty.

Surprisingly, Sai is quick to comply. Though she could have done without the shrugged, "Fine. I'm uninterested in the hollow between her thighs."

From the other side of the fire, Kakashi coughs, and Sakura buries her face in her hands. This is all Naruto's fault, the dumbass.

"Bastard—"

"Don't worry," Sai cuts off Naruto's red-hot protest. He rubs flat the lines from his sleeping bag with long, deliberate strokes where he lays it out by Naruto's side. "I am not interested in yours either."

* * *

Under the covers it's unbelievably warm. It's the warmth of shared body heat but not just that: more so it's the warmth of comfort, of _teammate_. Of Naruto.

She thinks she could stay cuddled in his heat forever, sleeping life away, entwined together. But there's something they both have to settle first. Someone they can't leave behind. It makes his breathing bittersweet where it blasts against her collarbone in hot huffs—he's always like that when they lie together, clinging, trying to bury himself in her embrace even in unconsciousness.

His breath hitches once and she knows he's woken from a bad dream, fingers tensing against her damp skin, while she this whole time hasn't even been able to shut her eyes. He pulls back a little, eyes clouded and realizing she's awake. They're such a dark blue they look black, but they're still his, still filling slowly with his awareness and spirit even under the hue of night.

_What time is it?_ he asks without asking at all, without opening his mouth so much as squinting the features of his face before propping up on one elbow, glancing around them for the dark shapes of their slumbering travel mates.

"Not time yet," she whispers and he nods, slipping back down beside her, breathing out heavily and for once not knowing what to say. He doesn't even remember what woke him or what he'd dreamed, but he's certain it involved Sasuke from the bad feeling that's been left in the center of his chest like some old wound agitated by the deepening in weather.

"Worried?" he replies, referring to her similar state of un-sleep.

Maybe he does it for his own comfort, or maybe he does it for hers, but either way his hands are suddenly wandering the dips and curves of her body, and she doesn't stop them. His fingers slip down the front of her elastic shorts, and he has the image of her moaning his name waking their sensei. It makes his heart quicken, lower parts to his body tighten.

"Naruto. . ."

She squirms against his touch, but he tries to persuade her by licking a hot trail down her neck. Her skin is salty.

"I'll be quiet," he pleads in a hushed tone. "Let me take your mind off him—it. Off it." Oops. Bad slip.

He half understands why she pushes the top cover aside and disentangles herself from his hand before stalking off into the woods with all the grace of an enraged boar, but he doesn't want to admit it to himself.

"W-what'd I do?"

Maybe, maybe she had just needed to relieve herself. Maybe she's not actually mad at him, so he waits impatiently for her return, feeling like he's probably, definitely fucked up.

A good ten minutes later and he's started to feel worried (for both her safety and himself in general) and after a minute to contemplate his chances of coming back alive, sneaks off after her. He forgets his shoes, but doesn't notice until he steps on a particularly squishy spot of a large, fallen log.

His leg crashes through, and he bites back a painful yelp. He can see her up ahead though, shivering with her back to him, so he hurriedly works his leg free and limp-hops up to her.

"Hey, Sakura-chan, what's wrong? If you're not in the mood, I. . ." his voice trails off, and for a minute neither break the silence. All he can think about is the _throb, throb, throb_ along the inside of his thigh and the way she still hasn't turned around.

"Why do you seem to think the only way to fit into my life is as some kind of pleasure source?"

He feels his cheeks flush at the accusation, a small scoff caught in the back of his throat. _I wasn't—_ He wants to deny it, but he can't because it's partially the truth. "Isn't it?"

She turns on him, and he can tell from the set of her jaw that it wasn't the right thing to say, but he'll be damned if he backs down on this one. _She's_ the one who propositioned him first, who openly accepted the terms to using him. What is he supposed to be to her otherwise?

"You've been a teammate long enough."

Sakura talks a lot with her anger so he hopes she doesn't mean it. But the fact that she makes _teammate_ sound like a downgrade—like nothing, like when she says it she doesn't mean _companion_—stings. He deflates at the threat, voice quieter when he asks earnestly, "I suppose that's good enough for you then, Sakura-chan?"

_You really wouldn't care if that's all I was?_

For her part, she looks embarrassed. She twirls a strand of pink hair around one finger. Refuses to meet his eyes. "I didn't mean it that way," she offers finally, but the words sound forced and hollow. "I just don't want you to think. . . that you have to earn your keep. You don't always have to—if you're worried, sometimes I can comfort you."

She looks to him then and her eyes are pleading for him to understand. But she can't mean what he thinks he just heard. Life has never been that good to him.

"Sa-Sakura-chan. . ."

She drops down to her knees then, fingers reaching for the waistband to his pants, and his feet are frozen and his leg still aches but he doesn't dream of telling her 'no'.

When her hot lips encircle an entirely different area of throbbing, her tongue glazing his skin as she swallows him inch by agonizing inch, he reaches an arm in the empty air, near flailing, desperate for a support to cling to. It's embarrassing but he can't stop the shuddering, can't quiet the whimpers that rip from his throat.

* * *

They leave before breakfast and dawn, before the branches have time to defrost and freeze over again, running from the onset because time is against them. This time Naruto keeps a slower pace (though not by much), glancing back whenever Sai moves in to 'converse' with Sakura.

Sometimes when he looks back to her, the emotion in his eyes surprises her because while he often looks torn between his desires or full of longing for both his precious people or even jealous of the affection she shows toward others, she's never seen him look _possessive_ before. It's not that she thinks he'd overstep his bounds—she's certain he knows she'd pummel him for such behavior, but the heaviness to that gaze affects her.

The incomprehensible way that it makes her feel (craving, thrill, fear?)—it's the first real indication she's had that something significant has changed in their relationship.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Just to give you a heads up, the story will both be mirroring and deviating from the manga from this chapter onward. Could contain spoilers if you aren't up to date with at least chapters 357-363 or so.  
**

* * *

Hinata spots them first, even before Kiba's nose starts twitching, (and with a great flare of his nostrils he announces their arrival) because she's been waiting and searching and worrying this whole time. They're coming in with the first rays of sunlight and just a glimpse of that golden hair bobbing through the trees is enough to tint her cheeks a light rouge.

From behind his jacket collar, Shino frowns.

Akamaru is being lazy this morning; he flicks his tail in the dirt like some great bovine and doesn't much react when Kiba jerks to his feet. Kiba stamps out the dwindling flames of their morning campfire and snatches up the last fish skewer (it's hers, but she wasn't going to eat it anyway), shoveling it into his mouth whole as he declares that he'll be damned if he shares their hard-earned catch with another team.

Shino tells him to stop being jealous and unnecessary which only causes him to kick up ash into their faces as he stomps across the embers more furiously.

Akamaru flicks his tail, and closing his eyes, whines.

_Why can't they all just get along?_

Hinata is inclined to agree.

It's a sad fact that whenever Naruto is mentioned (or _not_ mentioned) their teamwork seems to crumble at the edges (or rather it feels like a stretching, taut and a little bit painful), but she doesn't understand _why_.

Afterall, he's such an admirable guy.

* * *

They're finally reaching their destination at long, exhausted last.

Sakura is damn tired by the time they arrive, apparently the most damn tired out of all of them. (Of course she is, they're probably thinking—she's the chuunin, the weakest link. The frustration makes her bite the inside of her cheeks.) Having lagged behind, she can't help but to wince as she drops down from the security of the leaves and limps to joins her team who has already joined the other. With much physical relief, she moves in to idle at Naruto's side.

She wants nothing more than to find a hot spring (and maybe a chilled bottle of sake) and to molest her idiot of a teammate. She rather likes this recent discovery of just what she's capable of making him do. (Whimper, writhe—begging is a personal favorite.) It's a power she holds over him, one she wields with lips and tongue and teeth. And like any new technique she's eager to practice and master, but she can't do any of these things because they're here for Sasuke-kun and her heart's already racing at just the thought of seeing him again.

Speaking of the idiot—Naruto is wound up like a clockwork spring, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What are we waiting for?" he asks.

"A plan," Kiba scoffs.

"Yeah, well." Bounce, bounce. Like he hasn't just been running for two days straight. "Haven't you found anything?"

"If we did, we wouldn't be waiting here for you."

"But this is the meeting point—"

She's about to offer some form of understanding, teammate solace, to get him to _calm down_ when Hinata interrupts (or rather begins murmuring and the boys pause to listen) with a pink-cheeked, "G-good morn-ning, N-Naruto-kun."

He offers her a sunny grin. "Mornin' Hinata!"

It's when he starts to rub at the back of his head in that awkwardly pleased way that Sakura elbows him in the ribs. Hard.

_Oww._ He shoots her a bewildered look, hand moving to massage the sore spot in his side which without his fox-chakra would likely ripen a lovely shade of plum. "What did you—?" but he clamps his mouth shut before she can jab him again. He drops to a sit, cross-legged on the ground, arms likewise hooked across his chest.

He's pouting but at least he's being still.

Sakura turns her attention on Hinata, but the girl's already averted her gaze. And suddenly she can't tear her eyes away from that long, glossy black hair. There was a time when her own hair had shown in health and care as well, but those years are no more than a plume of settling dust in her memory. She hasn't regretted running her femininity into the ground (not just for Sasuke-kun but for Naruto, too) in a long while. But now, without really understanding why, she aches just a little.

She feels a shameful burn set into the apples of her cheeks at the realization that in some way she envies this girl (and _maybe_ is just a little bit jealous).

But before she can self-reflect for too long, Kakashi interrupts with a light clearing of his throat. They're going to split up and search for Itachi separately in the favor of covering more ground as revealed by the plan Yamato lays out. They'll be out of the range of radio transmission, so should signal any important findings by emergency flare and otherwise meet back at the campsite by dusk fall.

Immediately, Sakura feels alarmed. "But isn't it dangerous to break formation in enemy territory? At the very least we should go in pairs," she objects.

It's a reckless decision in her mind, and she'll be damned if she lets Naruto out of her sight with Itachi around. He didn't stand a fighting chance against the Akatsuki member's genjutsu—she'd seen the effect on him of just one finger's worth up close and personal before. What could their team leaders be thinking?

She's quickly reprimanded, shot down. She feels embarrassed at the accusation and insult—as if she were some coward of a kunoichi. She wants to remind them that despite her role as medic, her delegation as mere back-up support, she has no qualms about using her strength in offensive combat. But she swallows the words, unwilling to argue further. They don't understand.

"Don't worry about me, Sakura-chan," Naruto pipes up as if having read her mind. "I can take care of myself."

He shoots her an over-confident grin, and she half-hates him for it. That cheekiness scares her, always, because she knows the risk that recklessness and disregard for danger can mean on the battlefield. But she loves him even more because he's learned to interpret her in such startlingly accurate ways. And she can see it in his face—the way he beams, grin deepening with emotion, as her reaction confirms for him the accurateness of his guess.

It still surprises him to think that there are people who care about him now.

Sakura gives in to another rare blush, and Naruto waggles his green, nail-polished thumb at her.

Kakashi interrupts with another (seemingly embarrassed) cough. "I'll explain the team formations now. For this mission," he drawls. "You will each have two of my nin-dog summons with you at all times."

As if on cue, a haze of smoke cloaks their former sensei, blossoming from the ground up like a puffy white tidal wave where his cut hand has pressed to the grass. Shadows form in the dissipation then give way to color and texture, fur.

Naruto's voice is the first to ring out. "Pakkun!"

You'd think they were long lost friends. But Sakura understands, Naruto latches on to anyone (and anything) that will have him.

The dog for his part gives a friendly nod of his head. "Yo."

* * *

In the end they each go their separate ways, Sakura loathe to let Naruto from her sight, but what else could she have done? She can't exactly disobey her superior's orders based on a silly niggling in the back of her mind, and she'd been made to feel the fool on top of that for even being worried in the first place.

He should be fine.

Instead of two nin-dogs, Naruto had been assigned the largest of the nin-dogs and Hinata (which might possibly vex Sakura even more than him being out there on his own). She'd snicker at the idea, that Hinata counted as Naruto's second dog-escort except that Yamato had also chosen to accompany the group, so she's left with only her annoyance and jealousy over the whole ordeal. Why exactly, she wanted to ask, wasn't _she_ fit to serve as Naruto's partner? Surely, they had the best teamwork and rapport. Surely, she could protect him better than Hinata. Was Hinata willing to lay down her life for him if—

Sakura is jostled from her silent fuming by the interjection of her own nin-dog. "You can count on me, Sakura-chan!"

She looks to the little pup with his ridiculous mo-hawk of a mane, scrutinizingly. He'd said as much when Kakashi had assigned him to her team so she wonders at his apparent need to repeat the sentiment. Is her mood really so apparent that it's affecting her dogs?

"You might not know it, but I'm one of the best," he continues, near prancing at finally having won her attention. "Yeah, yeah. I'm a _ruff_ rider."

In the base of her skull, Sakura can feel a throbbing headache coming on.

"Jesus, don't you ever shut up for one second?" the second dog cuts in. (His hair eerily reminds her of Sasuke-kun's, and he has a disposition sour enough to justify the comparison.)

"Teme, I'll shut you up!"

"What? That doesn't even make—"

"Now, now, boys don't fight," Sakura soothes, but both dogs have suddenly gone stock-still, noses high and snuffling the air.

"Uchiha," the mo-hawked one snarls, the other pointing in the intended direction, both the image of serious professionalism.

Sakura suppresses a small shudder, nodding her consent. "Lead the way."

* * *

Her heart's fluttering like a trapped thing in her chest, her boots pounding against dirt and grass, crushing leaves under foot.

"Spilt blood," the sour one had snuffed, and then they'd ran.

She should send up a flare. She should send up a flare. She should send up a flare.

But no matter how many times the thought circuits in her head, she can't bring herself to do it. Not yet. She just wants to get a glimpse, ascertain what exactly she's dealing with.

An injured Itachi? Or had the dog meant to indicate the death of more innocents. She tries to form a cold lump in the back of her throat (it seemed only appropriate) but her body won't let her get sick. It's too busy pumping adrenaline into her system, expanding her lungs to suck in more air. Faster, faster, faster. The trees are a blur. Her lungs are on fire.

And then, she bursts into a clearing. There's a man up ahead of them with long blond hair who's rapidly deteriorating into nothing but a patchwork of black, squiggly lines, folding in on himself, pulsating with a vibrant dangerousness. Her hair stands on the back of her neck, an electric current tingling down her spine. And there's—

"S-Sasuke-kun?!"

The boy turns at the sound of her startled voice, and she can see fear in his blood red eyes.

* * *

"What was that?"

Naruto tears his eyes from the giant mushroom cloud in the sky in order to watch for Hinata's response. If anyone could have seen what happened, it would be her. Her empty eyes briefly meet with his before fluttering to the ground, and she gives a sad shrug. "I'm s-sorry, Naruto-kun. Too far away," she explains.

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't an emergency flare," Naruto gripes, glancing around the group as if he'd find his missing teammates there. It feels weird being in a cell without them, like he's walking around without his toes or something. And he doesn't feel all too comfortable that his Sakura-chan is out there alone, even if he knows she can take care of herself.

First they'd run into creepy Kabuto and now this?

* * *

It isn't real. It can't be real—in all the years she'd imagined what it would be like to finally see him again, to _save_ him, she never thought it could be like this. The last time she'd seen him, he'd tried to kill Naruto, and then he'd turned on her. She'd cried a lot over that, the fear that maybe he hadn't been bluffing, that maybe he was no longer theirs. But none of that so much as enters her mind when she sees the state of him, takes it all in during that split second before the blast. He's bleeding on the ground, exhausted and broken in so many ways, and she just thinks, _It can't be real._

Sasuke stopped being afraid of _anything_—not death, not Itachi, not even life or love or failure—after Orochimaru attacked them in the Forest of Death. She'd seen him first hand shuck the remains of his emotions, turn against his own teammate-brother-friend.

So it didn't seem right that he would look at her like that, with a terror, a sincerity, before he lunged at her from the ground.

She can feel the heat searing at her face and arms, pushing her backwards like a hot hand on her chest as they fall together, swallowed up by the giant mouth of a serpent. Orochimaru's beast.

She hadn't even seen him move. It was like a teleportation or she didn't know what, but that speed, to summon such a beast and close the distance to her in such short time—in NO time—it makes her mind hurt to think about it.

But he _had_ reached her; he'd wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest, shielded her full bodily. It makes her cry to feel his labored panting against her neck, except that she knows he'd done it all without thinking. Saving her would never be a conscious decision on Uchiha Sasuke's behalf. Not anymore.

* * *

**AN: **DUN DUN DUN the plot thickens. So Sakura is with Sasuke and Naruto is with Hinata, lovely I know. But again, just to remind everyone this has been and will continue to be a NaruSaku fic exclusively. So don't worry, I'm not going to throw in a SasuSaku lemon or anything like that on you, but looks like we will be dipping back into the angst for a bit. Apologies for the long wait, and as always thank you for the reviews. Any input is greatly appreciated.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:** Ahh, I'm so close to 300 reviews! :3 THANK YOU to everyone who has left me such wonderful and encouraging comments. You guys are what keeps me going. *Determined to finish the story somehow*Also a big thank you to Thatreevesgirl, Orin, and Musesilver for inspiring me in various ways with their lovely fanworks. As the same with last chapter, **THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SPOILERS if you are not caught up in the manga from at least the arc where Team Kakashi and Team8 go Itachi hunting.** I'm deviating from the canon in some major places, but in others things might not make sense if you don't know the happenings of those chapters. I apologize for this but rewriting whole scenes from the manga is just really exhausting.

This will (most likely) be the last chapter with Sasuke

* * *

Naruto is near breathless when his make-shift team stumbles back to the designated rendezvous, having sprinted the entire way. His eyes dart from Kakashi to Sai to Shino to Kiba back to Kakashi, almost uncomprehending. To be sure he checks the surrounding area, scrutinizing the treeline, before glancing back to Kakashi then Sai, Shino, Kiba, and back to Kakashi.

"She's late?"

Sakura was never late during a mission. That was like saying Sakura got a B on a test or Sakura asked a friend to take her shift at the hospital (even when he begged her when she used work as an excuse to get out of a date). It just didn't happen.

But before he can get too worked up, Kakashi quells, "She may have been farther away. We'll wait."

"I can look for her," he argues, shaking his head, "faster than anyone." But he isn't anxious, not very, not yet. He can ignore the stabbing feeling in his gut of what such an explosion could mean with Itachi in the area.

"And risk giving us away?" Yamato chides, and Kakashi repeats, "Just wait."

The members of Team Eight say nothing, a neutral body in the matter, and Naruto starts to deflate. Common sense is telling him that he's overreacting, that everyone is treating him like the genin he is. And hopefully for good reason.

But then Sai has to go and open his mouth. "The hag was in like-company; she'll be fine."

He's trying to assure (probably), but it's completely the wrong thing to say. Naruto launches at his face as if there isn't a 200-pound Rottweiler and Yamato latched onto his shoulders to hold him back.

When Naruto finally settles down, he plops onto the ground with legs crossed and pouting for the second time that day, but it's not just a childish reaction this time. He trusts Sakura (not to do something stupid like he would), he really does, but he doesn't know what he'll do if he has to suffer the loss of not one but both his teammates, his most precious people. His most precious person.

And to not be able to fight to bring her back. . . to have to really give up the only person who's ever loved him. . . It makes his eyes grow all wide and watery, and he doesn't even notice when Pakkun comes to sit in his lap in an attempt of soothing.

Half and hour leaks by in this manner of tense waiting, and finally Kakashi admits that the nin-dogs he sent out before Naruto's group even arrived haven't found her. He's going to try re-summoning one of the two he'd assigned to her (because if she's hurt and they're with her, he doesn't want to drag both of them away) to find out what's happened.

When the mo-hawked runt appears in a billow of smoke, he's sniffling and rubbing his paws over his eyes. "Sakura-chaaan," he howls. "I promised not to let her dowwwn."

Naruto doesn't wait to hear the rest. He's shot forward like a coil that's been sprung, is everywhere—the sky the ground the trees—and is running in every direction, multiplied into the seeming thousands. It's too much for Yamato or Kakashi or anyone to be able to control, and even though there's the risk he'll lose himself in his grief and become a mini-version of the rampaging Nine-tails, they let him go. There's not much else they can do other than listen to the little nin-dog's story and hope for the best.

* * *

Time has forgotten them in this space between spaces, in this place that shouldn't exist. They could be trapped forever for all she knows, lost in the belly of a beast in the pit of a black hole. But it feels so good it hurts to be like this, tangled up in Sasuke-kun in the warmth of darkness and isolation. It should be scary, but she can almost hear his assurance—_Don't worry. I always have a plan._

For a long while (which may be mere seconds for all she knows), there is nothing but her and him and the beat of his heart against her chest.

* * *

She has time to think.

Sakura thinks, there are many things she has experienced in her life as a kunoichi, not all of them pleasant.

She's given life and taken it away. She's witnessed torture first hand, partaken in the unsavory task herself—that's one of the things they don't tell when you're still a naïve, hopeful girl of not yet fourteen, that one of the key resources of a medical specialist is the skill to sever, gouge, break, mend and hurt again, the ability to sustain a prisoner's consciousness through the full course of questioning. (Sometimes during these sessions she imagines she understands what happened to Kabuto a bit—somewhere along the way he stopped denying the displeasure, the revulsion, and realized he liked it.) In some ways she's more aged, more hardened than either of her boys, though they'd never admit it. And part of her hopes Naruto never stops long enough to understand, to consider the consequences of the full range of her abilities.

So while Sakura has experienced many unsavory things in her short lived career, she's never before crawled from the sizzling carcass of a summoned beast. But here she is being lead by the hand, and only once they've emerged into the crisp air of _still being alive_ does Sasuke remember to stop touching her.

He looks about as confused as she feels.

She doesn't like seeing him like this, so lost and unlike himself so she gives him something he can hold onto: anger. "We came to kill Itachi," she says, which is mostly true. (There were many things she could have said in the black snake womb, but she couldn't utter a sound then, was too weak to shatter the moment.)

Predictably, his eyes pop with a brighter redness. They glower, and she sees this because she doesn't bother to look away.

"I told you two to stay out of this," he hisses. "Don't you dare try to cheapen this for me."

_This is my revenge. _She can feel the thought like a slap in the face, but she doesn't know what to say. 'I'm sorry but I'm not going to back down,' just doesn't seem to cut it.

"Who's the bitch? We don't really have time to be picking up strays—Karin's bad enough."

Sasuke's gotten better with his eyes even if he's not Itachi-level, so at first she thinks the sneering shark-boy, resting a giant-blade atop one shoulder to her left is part of an induced hallucination. She blinks rapidly, mouth forming a surprised 'O' but as soon as the reality of the situations dawns on her, she lashes out with an unexpected uppercut. It's hardly a tenth of her power (such is the sacrifice of speed; he'd have seen the build-up coming a mile away), but it's still sufficient to send the cleaver-welding ninja splattering into a pulpy puddle of gloop.

Sakura cocks an eyebrow but doesn't verbally question the presence of the deceased Demon of the Midst's sword.

Sasuke betrays nothing in his expression, but she can tell the show of strength has surprised him. He's seen Suigestu dissolve a punch without allowing it to affect the whole of his body—to think that she shattered him so effortlessly. "Then you really did kill Sasori of the Red Sand," he says, confirming the rumor to himself—one he'd been loathe to believe. It seemed both of his teammates had grown without him—thrived outside of his presence. It stings him and that in and of itself annoys him.

"Keeyawh, that stung," the puddle whines, struggling to reconstruct himself, to solidify. "Remind me to return the favor in a couple minutes."

"Suigestsu."

One word is all it takes to get him inline, and suddenly Sakura understands.

"You're with him—_them_. You have a new team."

She will not cry.

"That's no concern of yours."

And just like that this meeting is over; Sakura whips out her flare-gun, pointing it to the sky, but before she can get a round off, Sasuke's blocked the trigger with his fingers, wound his body around hers. A breath hitches in her chest—he knows exactly how to handle her. One hand has come to grip the back of her neck, cradling the base of her skull.

"Are you going to try to kill me now, too?" she questions, voice surprisingly calm.

He speaks low enough so that only she will hear when he says, "Don't tell Naruto about this. . . it'd only hurt him."

She stiffens against him, tense with anger rather than caution. She remembers a time he'd requested of her the same thing—_for Naruto's sake_—to keep quiet during the chuunin exams.

"We're not like that anymore. I won't lie to him."

"Let's go, Sasuke; whoever she is, she'll just drag you down."

She's sure Sasuke can feel the deep-rooted tremble of chakra surging into her arms suddenly at the cutting insult, but she doesn't care. She's going to kill his new teammate, stab him through the gut with his own impossibly heavy sword.

"Please," Sasuke begs, breathes it against her ear.

And then she's alone. She sinks to the ground, weeping because it hurts, it really hurts this time. Her chakra leaks out of her, settles in her gut like an icy swirling and that hurts, too.

* * *

Sakura looks up, eyes wide, when she feels a hand gingerly touch the top of her head, jolted back into reality. She doesn't know how long it's been since she lost herself in her mini-break down, but the tears have long since dried on her cheeks. She realizes at that she's forgotten to launch a flare and yet somehow Naruto has managed to find her regardless. In that moment it seems only natural that he would be the one to come to her side.

She doesn't say anything, and he doesn't say anything either—they just look at each other and then he drops to his knees, throwing his arms around her in a suffocating embrace. He's panting or hyperventilating maybe and she can feel his heart hammering against her chest where they're pressed together as if one.

He doesn't ask, _What happened?_ like she expects him to, just lets out keening laugh-sob and says, "I found you."

"Yeah," she says stupidly, but her brain and her body are acting all sluggish, and she can't think of something better to say. _Tell him_, her mind is screaming at her, but she's so very drained, and she wants nothing more than to close her eyes and just breathe for a minute in the safety of her teammate's (_this_ teammate's) arms.

And then before she knows it, Kakashi and Yamato and Team Eight have arrived. It seems all too quickly for her taste even if it should be a relief. At least, she thinks, she was able to spend a little bit of time with Naruto picking themselves back up together before they have to put on their ninja straight-faces and pretend that nothing is wrong and that nothing ever kills them inside because they're professionals on a mission.

Naruto is reluctant to pull back, but acts accordingly when Sakura shifts away from him.

Kakashi, offers a subdued, "You gave us quite a scare, Sakura," which is probably his way of saying, _I'd figured you for dead_.

"How did you. . . ?" she asks, unsure if the lot of them had followed Naruto or if she really had sent up a flare and was so far in shock that she'd forgotten about it. Of course, Team Eight _is_ a tracking based cell of which Kiba is quick to remind her.

Kiba puffs out his chest with a fangy, boastful grin. "I've got the best nose in Konoha, aint that right, Akamaru? And you—" he turns to Sakura with an exaggerated sniff, "smell of Sasuke, all over."

She also smells of adrenaline and fear and snake-bile and Naruto, and if he didn't know better it would be hard to resist the urge to nuzzle along her neck for a better whiff of this cocktailed scent of survival. (It makes him feel wolfish, energetic and enthralled, even if he knows it's wrong on some level to think of a fellow Konoha shinobi in the category of prey. But he learned long ago that certain animalistic actions just aren't socially understood or accepted outside of his clan so he keeps himself in check.

Naruto takes the news hard, wearing the disbelief and subsequent hurt all over his face, and she wants to punch Kiba in the gut for his tactlessness and for outing her before she was ready.

Naruto draws back a little, draws away from _her_ and is about to mumble something when he to everyone's surprise (his own included) gasps a sharp intake of air and pops into a smoky non-existence. Sakura gapes at his disappearance, never having realized it was a clone, a substitute-Naruto, though she should have, and then the tears come again, quick and without warning as not only does his physical absence leave an ache, but the sudden dismissal of the technique in this instance could only mean a very bad thing. Something has happened to Naruto.

* * *

Naruto coughs, pounding a fist to his chest to dislodge the pain there as he falls to his knees in the patchy grass. The crow had been hard to swallow and unexpected; it was all beak and wet feathers and disturbingly magical in nature, chilling where it coiled and lodged behind his breastbone. And even though Itachi is gone now, Naruto is scared. There is a part of Itachi inside of him now—has a hold over him now, but even more frightening is the emotional information he's gained in the moment his technique was broken. It's nearly too much for Naruto to handle, he who is used to assimilating thousands of memories in a fraction of a second as if shuffling slips of paper into a neat stack in the recesses of his brain.

On one hand, it's a relief that Sakura is safe, but on the other he's overwhelmed with a sense of betrayal, an ache at knowing Sasuke and her were _together_ whether on purpose or accidental, and even though he doesn't know what happened yet, he knows that Sakura was going to keep quiet about it. And then there's the matter of Sasuke (isn't there _always_ the matter of Sasuke?) Hearing the news as another version of himself while literally running into him and foricbly being dispelled--all the while Sasuke didn't even bat an eye, and seeing the teammate who rejected him willingly traveling with another team—it was both shocking and hurtful, and as Naruto tilts forward on his hands and knees, choking and crying, he doesn't know for the life of him what to do.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Last chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed the story, and sorry it took me so long to get around to finishing it! I tried to add a lemon into this chapter to go out with a bang, but it just wasn't happening for me, so maybe one day an epilogue with happy coupling...?

* * *

_There are times when a ninja is faced with difficult decisions. To protect Konoha, will you be able to stop Sasuke--even if it means killing him?_

It's hard to breathe with the way Naruto presses his face into his pillow, choking on the scent of his own unbathed dirtiness, but he can't bring himself to move even after hours and hours, and besides, in this moment he likes the feeling of being suffocated a little. Any distraction from the real root of his pain is welcome. Even the empty pangs in his stomach and the ache of his stiff limbs feel soothing somehow. Like this, a slash across his back would be like a fresh air breeze.

He thinks he'd rather be a bloodied leaf rustling in the wind than a useless friend who can't save anybody or make anyone love him or even make a god damned decision.

He hasn't left his apartment in days. The air is stale from the shut in. It's taken this long to stop his swirling thoughts, and now that his head is finally quiet, he waits for the hurt to ebb away.

People have come to pester him, Sakura and then Sai and even Shikamaru rapping knuckles against his door or the bedroom's window pane.

"Go away," he'd groaned each time.

He's not fit to be a ninja because he's passed the 10-hour mourn frame. He's passed it seven times over and still refuses to emerge from his nest-hole of an apartment.

It needs to be cleaned. Sakura wouldn't be caught dead here anymore, but then that's not really an issue anymore is it?

He wants to forget that he'd forcibly swallowed a part of Itachi and that he missed his teammate yet again and that he was betrayed. He doesn't want to remember or feel these things. He wants... to be punched in the face.

As if in answer, he hears the sound of his front door cracking inward and crashing down. He sits and waits for Sakura to make it to his bedroom. This time she just kicks the door off it's hinges.

Guess, she's over the whole knocking-and-being-ignored thing.

"That was overkill." His face is drawn tight but at the same time is so very vacant, void completely of it's usual expressive emotion.

"It's been four days. You don't answer when I try to talk to you. I asked the neighbors. They said they haven't seen you outside even once. Have you even eaten for Kami's sake?"

It is clear from the wrinkling of her nose that she's realized he hasn't bathed.

Naruto looks her in the face for a moment before answering. She looks concerned or upset or just how Sakura usually does when he makes her remember Sasuke accidentally sometimes. He wants to ask, _Did you beg him to take you along?_ but refrains. The thought of her up and leaving Konoha behind, not just him--he doesn't know if he can handle it. "I can take care of myself Sakura-chan. You don't need to worry about me."

He even fakes a hollow smile for her, the habit is so easy. He rolls over after that, staring at the wall with his back to his teammate and waits for her to leave.

But she doesn't go away. She stands with her hands on hips at his dismissive gesture, knowing full-well she doesn't deserve his forgiveness even for the misunderstanding, but she can't accept his loss--she won't lose another teammate even if he's decided to hate her petulantly, so she snatches him up in her arms like a child, hauling him out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

"H-hey! Sakura-chan!" He yelps with surprise and embarrassment. He wriggles and flails in her unrelenting grip--he feels foolish at the way she man-handles him and ignores his will. But he doesn't want to hurt her to get away. "Cut it out," he snarls, and he's not playing.

"I won't."

Sakura dumps him into the shower, soiled mission clothes and all, and turns the faucet on overhead, icy water pelting him in the face.

"Hey!"

He's up on his feet, angry now. His hip is bruised from where she dumped him against the edge of the tub, but that pain doesn't feel good. It just hurts.

He rips the shower curtain out of the way so as not to take his aggression out on her physically.

"Get outta my way."

He tries to shove her aside.

They fumble for a bit, Sakura hissing, again, stubbornly, "I won't." Her voice is hot in his ear, and he doesn't want to hear it.

Sakura knows he might not want her, but he's wrong--even she can tell he needs her. He's been running himself into the ground for reasons she could half-guess and for others he's refused to tell her.

"It's not your choice," she snaps. She pins his arms and shoves him back with the force of her own body falling into him, tripping into the tub in a painful tangle against the tiled bathroom wall, soaked as she holds him in place. "It's not your choice to dump me when I want to be with you."

Naruto's not crying. It's just the shower spray hitting his face... But he's shaking uncontrollably at her words. "You don't!" he exclaims, voice raw with pain. "You don't know what you want."

He wishes she would leave him alone. But then just as quickly he's hit with the resulting pang of fear and he thinks, _No, no I don't._ He doesn't want her to ever leave him alone, and that's why he'll never be okay again.

"You said I could make the decisions," she countered.

"Then decide something!" Naruto snaps. "Stop stringing me along. I could have been happy giving you to Sasuke, but you went and changed everything."

She wants to say, _I didn't start this_, but she did. She's the guilty one, the one who's caused him all this pain. "I had decided," she pleads with him. "I've been living with Ino-Pig because I can't go back home again." She punches the wall beside his head and the tile cracks. It wasn't supposed to be like this. When it came to Naruto, she always had the upper hand. He was loyal--he'd always been there. He wasn't supposed to be the one to ditch her, like Sasuke had. "I told Sasuke-kun I couldn't choose him over you anymore. I told him I wouldn't lie. I swear."

And she hadn't. She'd just been beaten to confessing the truth.

All because of a simple misunderstanding, he wanted nothing to do with her? He wouldn't even talk to her anymore? He hadn't spoken a single word to anyone on the trip back to Konoha.

She didn't know what to do to make him be himself again.

Naruto tries to get up, tries to force her out of the way a second time, but she's persistent, snatching and striking at his hands until he ends up accidentally smacking her in the face. His blue eyes are impossibly wide at his misstrike, and he lets her pin him up against the wall once more because of it, but he still frowns as they're both pelted by the cold shower. He can't actually say it: _Get out_, so instead he whines, "What do you want from me?"

Wasn't the damage she'd done enough? Wasn't he pathetic enough that even now he couldn't withstand her? How much more of himself would he have to lose before they were through?

"Idiot." They're both panting from the exertion. Sakura kisses Naruto's neck, long and attentive and desperate, kisses his wet skin until he shivers against her, until she can wrap her arms around him and trap him that way. "Did you forget?" she asks, and she grabs his slick hand to lift his thumb before his face.

His eyes focus on the chipping, green nail polish there.

"You belong to me."

Naruto shudders and collapses against the front of his teammate, returning her crushing, clinging embrace, his face buried in her dark rosette hair. He believes her, because what else can he do? He's desperate not to be abandoned after they've come so far.

"Please," he croaks, "turn the water off."

* * *

"I'm sorry I got you in the face," he says for the thirteenth time.

Sakura doesn't care about accidents. What's a swollen cheek to have her fox-face back? "Promise me, you don't think I'll leave you for Sasuke-kun."

At that he clams up, looks away.

"Naruto."

They're back in the bed and she's stripped him naked. His body is dry but his hair is damp and sandy looking. She runs her fingers over his chest, raising goosebumps in his skin, and kisses his nipples. The window is open to air the room, a breeze sifting over the rumpled sheets.

"Naruto."

"Promise me you'll never leave me for Sasuke first," he says. He whines it, an arm slung over his eyes. Aren't they just lying to each other at this point? He doesn't know.

It's a sad day that they've come to this. Sakura straddles Naruto's waist and tips his arm aside to get him to look at her. "He's the one who left us. He left you, and he left me."

Naruto's eyes darken, but he understands it's something they have to face eventually. "You think I don't know that?" His heart is flapping about in his chest like a pair of dark feathery wings.

Sakura bends forward at the waist, arcing into his mouth; she bites at his bottom lip as if to say, _Listen_. When she pulls back, she breathes, "He left you, and he left me. We're never going to give up chasing him. And we're never going to give up on each other."

She can feel his thumb rubbing over her wrist, and he looks up at her with dark, muddy blue-and-blood eyes, and he says, "I know. I know that, okay?"

She thinks, _Do you, finally?_

_

* * *

_

_**THE END**  
_


End file.
